A Fable in Bad Faith
by Osiris Moon
Summary: She recognizes his name; Loki of Asgard. But they're not children anymore and her loyalty lies with the protection of the realms, not with the memory of a boy who shaped her childhood. They call him 'Silvertongue' and she's destined to hide behind silence. The fates have made their worlds alien to each other, yet the nine realms suffer, and that may be the saving grace. Pre-Thor
1. A Hand's Turn

_Chapter 1: A Hand's Turn_

* * *

Scuffling just out of sight, the creature sniffed the air and reared its head. It caught their scent. Armed with leathery black skin, disappearing into the shadows of the forest was a simple task. The people it was hunting had no such talent.

Among the people, a shorter figure in the front froze. The rustling in the forest threatened to cloud his judgment.

"Rekkr," a voice said, trying to jar the leader out of his trance. Rekkr raised a finger to where his lips would be behind a thick mask. He then flattened his hand in a halting motion.

Soon everyone in the group could hear twigs snapping. Though the sound was slight, they could tell it was coming from the thick brush around them. The path they followed seemed to become darker as they waited for orders.

Rekkr looked up from the ground, breaking his train of thought. The village was in sight; though that was no statement. Anyone with the gift of vision could see the smoke from miles away, considering the town was submerged in flames. Screams from that direction made the warriors sweat, but their leader commanded patience.

He turned slowly and faced his pack of warriors. His party found comfort in his masked face, for they couldn't see a reflection of their own fear in him.

Pointing a gloved hand at the back portion of the crowd, Rekkr swept his hand in front of him and jerked his thumb at the burning village. His group understood immediately, and half of them edged forward to get a head start.

Arching his back and keeping his ears alert, he touched the hilt of his sword. If it tried to attack while his warriors moved ahead, at least they would be able to know where it was.

Ice pumped through the Rekkr's veins, despite the animal skin hood covering his face and fastening at his chin. He could hear the creature's inhumane gasps of oxygen. Like a ghost passing by, the sounds it made were faint and haunting. The sound of the villagers was drowned out as the creature distorted the space around it, dulling their senses.

Time was fleeting, and those people needed help. The creature sensed Rekkr's dilemma and his longing to help the people he was sent to protect. Additionally, it smelt his fear. It was rich, palpable even. Thin fingers that ended in sharp claws scratched the ground while it crept up on him from behind. He was too busy staring at the burning village to notice the humanoid creature dragging itself out of the shadows.

Taking another daring step, the beast was pleased that the warriors were too overcome by fear to notice. Their eyes were wide and erratic as they searched, not realizing it was at their heels...

Their leader looked at the flames, and he grit his teeth. A child was wailing for his mother …

A warrior glanced over to where the creature was and stiffened. The sheer size of it was enough to render a grown man speechless.

The creature looked into the eyes of the soldier. Unable to move, he stood rigid as its bleak eyes drew him in, then spat him out. With a sinking heart, he couldn't breathe, much less defend himself.

Crawling even closer, it took three good men before one was able to draw his sword and slash a mark into its midnight black skin.

The leader didn't turn around when he heard one of his men scream in horror. A disturbing gnashing sound and the growl of a feral animal made Rekkr deduce it was just out of reach. If only the thing came a bit closer, he could turn around, avoiding its eyes, and kill it.

One of his men kicked the thing in the chest, and it landed on the ground behind Rekkr. Brandishing his weapon in a fluid swing, he spun and looked at the hideous creature sprawled on its back. A writhing organ pumped blood beneath its transparent under skin. Grimacing, Rekkr plunged his sword through the beast and into the ground below it.

He allowed his sword to rest in its body for a second as the charged atmosphere gave way to relief. Making a sweeping gesture with his hand, Rekkr finished the motion in the direction of the burning village. Still unstable, his warriors sheathed their weapons and wiped their stricken faces before trudging forward.

Opting to steady his racing thoughts, Rekkr squatted over the body of the overgrown Mare and dared to look into its hollow eyes. Its immensity scared him half to death. Whatever was sending these terrors were somehow making them larger. Rekkr looked at the blood on his sword, then sheathed it.

They could bleed. That was all that mattered.

Sprinting to where his men had poured out of the forest, smoke seeped into the mesh of his mouth. Escaping the thick brush, he met pandemonium. His soldiers had found a well and were trying to bring up water to contain the flames, but the fire was ungodly. It writhed with a mind of its own, not hearing the cries of the villagers who watched their lives go up in smoke.

Hesitance in his steps, Rekkr got closer to a group of people his soldiers were just beginning to push away from danger. Without saying a word, he pointed to a swamp nearby, and his warriors instantly began herding the mass of people towards it. Perhaps the dampness of the marsh would protect them.

Knowing that the roaring fire would destroy the entire village, the attempts to put it out were not only futile but pathetic as well. He had a feeling that the villagers knew this too.

Leaving his men to throw water on the rampant flames, Rekkr unclasp the large cape pinned to his pauldron. It's only purpose was to display status, and where he was going there was no need. With a mind filled with determination, the leader dared to run head first into the burning village.

Smoke was everywhere, but he choked it down to find anyone who might be trapped. Even with his serious disadvantage of being wrapped in cloth from head to foot, Rekkr danced dangerously close to the bonfire. Admiration for the structure of the village grew as he followed the dirt paths that were void from flames. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he kicked down the doors of houses that were still standing.

A piece of wood fell onto his narrow shoulder, and he was brought to his knees. Rekkr pushed the burnt board off of him and staggered to his feet. He was adjusting his disheveled scabbard as something in the corner of his eye moved, then began to scuttle towards him.

A small Mare the size of his head launched itself at him. Stepping aside at the last moment, the creature jumped onto a pile of embers. He kicked it away, not caring where it landed after he did so. The smaller beast seemed pitiful compared to the larger one Rekkr had killed, but he knew that these ones never attacked alone.

Sure enough, more Mares crept out of their hiding places, seemingly unaffected by the ferocious heat. Their eerie eyes reflected the flames, and the sight of them resembled demons ready to drag him to Hel.

Spreading his feet apart and brandishing his sword, he wished he could wipe his eyes free from sweat. Smoke was permanently in his lungs, and the adrenaline of battle coursed through his veins.

He swung his sword to intercept a Mare that jumped at him. After seeing their comrade being cut clean in half, the other Mares became more hostile. Hissing as their hides baked in the unbearable heat, the Mares dug their clawed hands into the ground and bared their fangs.

Before they could organize a proper attack, the ground shook violently, throwing them left and right. Rekkr bent his knees in an attempt to stay standing.

A large man fell from the sky, and Rekkr barely had time to jump out of his way before he landed in the place he once was. Adorned in a vibrant red cape and swinging a massive hammer, the man rose to his full height. The chainmail that was alien to Rekkr's own glinted along with the sweat dripping off of his long blond hair. He barely spared Rekkr a look where he lay, sprawled on the ground. Twisted in horrible kind of delight that was clearly bloodlust, the man's face screwed into concentration. He then launched himself into the air, away from the flames.

Rekkr was thankful that the man had stopped the Mares, but his more pressing problem was breathing. Not able to rise due to the thick air that clogged his lungs and stiffened his joints, Rekkr felt his body screaming in protest. How ironic; he was the only one who needed assistance.

Fortunately for him, a hand gripped his forearms and hauled him to his feet. Too tired to see who his saviour was, his mouth could not form a thank you. Instead, he allowed himself to be carried out of the fire and laid beside the rest of the idle villagers.

Barely conscious and half delirious, Rekkr could only feel the desire to remove his helmet and the fabrics around his body. Apparently, a group of villagers who were kind enough to be concerned thought so too.

"Take off his helmet," a woman's voice commanded. Rekkr did not have the strength to pull away when he felt hands on his helmet. "He's going to die if we don't cool him down!"

"No!" Rekkr recognized one of his warrior's voices as they intervened just in time. "You mustn't touch any of his armour."

"With all due respect," the woman from before said, her tone fierce. "This man can't survive with all of those clothes over his face-"

"This is not negotiable," the warrior stated firmly. "You are not to remove any of that man's armour."

After silence settled in, Rekkr could hear faint murmurings of questions: Why? What did his face look like? Was it too horrible to look at? He half wished the answer was that simple.

After lying down for too long, Rekkr forced himself to stand up. Motivation to assist his party tapped into the last parts of his energy. He poked his eyes with gloved fingers and sloppily cleaned them. As worrying glances were tossed in his direction, Rekkr tried not to show just how distraught he truly was as he adjusted his helmet and crawled out of the marsh.

His entire group was at the marsh, watching the man with the red cape along with his five companions fight off Mares that were swarming out of the forest. Knowing he had rested for too long, shame threatened to swallow him whole. The King was right, he wasn't ready for this.

Pushing aside his emotions, one of his soldiers pointed out motion coming from the forest. Another wave of beasts. There were so many of them. Sprinkled in were the gargantuan ones he had seen before as well. Where were they coming from? Why here? Why now?

Taking a deep breath, he held up his hand to his soldiers, informing them that he was going, and they were staying.

Reaching to the nape of his neck, he walked rigidly towards the forest. Every step he took was another nail in his coffin, and the glinting eyes of the creatures told him so. Already weak from the fire, his limbs were heavy. He grabbed hold of something solid and pulled out a quill-sized metal rod.

As he held it in his hand, he could feel the magic underneath his fingertips. What a wonderful feeling it was, although the circumstances in which he felt it was always awful. After all, he was warned to only use it in the case of emergencies.

The rod grew into a large staff with gnarled roots and the magic extended to each end, enveloping any metal that might have been there. With shallow breaths, he gripped it tightly and neared the forest

Six. There were six warriors, all mighty in their own respective ways. The large man holding a hammer grunted and smiled as he flattened any Mare in his path. Another blond man with arrows shot them in the blink of an eye. His companion destroyed them with his mace, but even they weren't enough for a number of enemies that were still coming.

With a break in the onslaught came time for the warriors to take a breath. The only woman among the group, who had a thin layer of soot in her midnight hair, sized up the Mares in the forest and allowed apprehension to enter her eyes.

"Those things are bigger than the others," she stated, looking at her companions uneasily. By the looks in their eyes, they shared her concern. "I've never seen any so big."

"Nor have I," another man said, looking at the cape-clad one with piercing green eyes. "Don't be stupid, brother. Those things are only slightly smaller than you."

"Don't patronize me, Loki, I can see them," he snarled, his eyes never leaving the forest. "And they're not so different from the small ones. They are the same creature, after all."

"How could you possibly know that, Thor?" Loki demanded, walking past the nervous woman and standing beside his brother. His hair glinted off of the hazy light, and his sharp features were twisted in scorn. "You said you can see them, but do you? There's something different about these ones."

"We were sent here for a reason," Thor said, looking down at the man with a disappointed expression. "If we cannot fight them, who will? Rise to this challenge, brother. You have to once in a while."

"Who the Hel is that?" the other blond man exclaimed, pointing out Rekkr, who was standing before the creatures with courage in his posture. "Do you see what he's holding?"

"A staff," another man said, scratching his red beard and squinting at him. "But what does he … oh dear. They're coming closer to him."

The group, who mistook the leader for a madman, sprung forward, earnest to stop him from being trampled by the daunting amount of creatures crawling towards him.

Not sharing their concern as a strange sense of calm overcame him, Rekkr twirled the stick in his hands, just as he practiced. Spinning it so quickly that a spark erupted from the pole, it quickly turned into a weapon.

The creatures jumped back in surprise, and he stopped spinning it. Instead, he began to swipe it forwards, causing the creatures to recoil backward, desperate to escape the invisible torment.

Twirling and shaking the staff to and fro, he extended his arms so the creatures could see that they were not getting past him. The staff hummed and they crawled over themselves to retreat back into the woods. Commanding them to leave with a striking air of authority, he watched them scurry out of sight, back to where they came from.

Rekkr fully extended his arm and watched the staff retract back into a metal rod. While pocketing the small staff, sounds of cheering reached his ears. Turning and seeing his warriors unsheathing their swords and raising them to the sky, he felt meekness rise in his throat. He offered a wave of thanks for their support, despite knowing they were only happy to show off that they did not need other warriors to solve their problems.

His other audience, the six warriors, were more shocked than gleeful. Before any of them could comment on what just happened, they took a few moments to watch Rekkr wave to his warriors.

"That was …" the man with the bow and arrow started, then stopped.

The red haired man said nothing but began strutting towards Rekkr as the woman nodded in approval.

"It was impressive," Loki stated, looking up at his brother cheekily. "Don't you think so?"

Looking fairly taken aback as all the attention was focused on another man, Thor growled under his breath at his brother. Poking fun at such a moment was not wise, but Loki enjoyed it regardless. Ignoring the two brothers, the black-haired woman turned to the only man who had yet to speak thus far.

"It seems, Hogun, that your people are far more capable than we thought," she said. A smile invaded Hogun the grim's face, surprising the woman.

"It seems so indeed, Sif," he replied, an inkling of pride in his voice. Watching Hogun quickly follow the red-haired man, Sif commended her friend's elation with a nod of her head. She then began walking as well.

Rekkr took a deep breath and coughed loudly, worrying about the state of his lungs for only a second. His thoughts were consumed by the cape he had tossed on the ground before entering the fire. How disrespectful that had been, in retrospect. Now that he was thinking about it, how horrible this entire mission turned out to be. He had had to be saved, for Yggdrasil's sake! How was he supposed to explain to the King that he had needed help after Njörd had insisted he wasn't ready?

"Well done!"

The sudden loud voice made Rekkr jump out of his skin, and the smile on the red-headed man's face made him want to disappear. Nodding in thanks, Rekkr tried not to shrink before the man in front of him.

"Truly, that was some spectacular work. I couldn't believe what I was seeing!" he chuckled, his eyes bright despite having blood smeared on his face. What strange warriors these were. "Oh, pardon my manners. The name's Volstagg. Who might you be?"

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Rekkr omitted a heavy cough and touched his throat gingerly. Volstagg understood his dilemma.

"Smoke in your lungs? I can't blame you for that," he said, touching his stomach and taking Rekkr's pathetic reasoning in stride.

As the two of them were joined by more of the warriors, Rekkr felt more and more trapped. A man with a tiny smile on his face bowed to him, and Rekkr did so back.

"I am known as Hogun," the smiling man said while touching the mace on his hip subconsciously. "It is a great honour to meet you."

Extending his hand as a 'you as well' motion, Hogun's face fell. He asked, with alarm in his words: "Are you well?"

When Volstagg explained why Rekkr did not speak, the woman with dark eyes stepped forward and placed her hand over her chest.

"I took you out of that fire, and I apologize for not ensuring you were unharmed," she said. Rekkr mirrored the motion and arched his back in a slight bow as well. "My name is Sif. Lady Sif."

Sif? That name was terribly familiar, and so Rekkr looked over her complexion once more. His thoughts were interrupted by a third man, who just arrived at the tiny gathering.

"I see you have met my companions," he pointed out before extending his hand to shake. "They call me Fandral. I admire your gusto in defeating those beasts. Do tell; how did you do it?"

After shaking the man's hand and sitting through another tiresome explanation on why he could not speak, the final two men arrived.

When they did so, the realization of who these people were dawned on him: the Royal Princes of Asgard, the Warriors Three, and of course, their companion Lady Sif.

Rekkr immediately sank to his knees and placed his fist over his heart in respect. How ridiculous he was for not being aware of this sooner.

"Rise," Prince Thor commanded, his bad mood lightened somewhat at the fact that even this mighty warrior had to bow to him.

Rekkr stood, and looked at the six of them with awed appreciation. He was glad they could not see the bizarre grin underneath his mask. Yet he was also pained. Wishing he could remove his mask so they would share in his joy, he instead showed them his palm in a silent question of what came next.

"As representatives of the AllFather, we would like to discuss a few things with your king," Prince Loki said, stepping forward so Rekkr was forced to focus on him. Although Rekkr nodded, he was far from alright. Simply looking at the prince made a thousand questions run through his mind, but he didn't look terribly different. He always did favour the colour green …

With a sweeping motion, Rekkr invited the warriors to follow him back to the castle, to his King, and to where certain punishment lay.


	2. Pay the Piper

_Chapter 2: Pay the Piper_

* * *

When the warriors stepped foot inside the royal courtyard of Vanaheim, they were instantly greeted. Rekkr, of course, had sent a soldier ahead to warn them that the Asgardians were arriving.

The royal palace of Vanaheim was grandiose enough to tell the tale of the Kings and Queens to which it kept safe, but quite modest as well. The skyscraping turrets and the stone bricks that seemed to stretch on for miles were breathtaking. Yet, its grey colour and a generous amount of shrubbery separating the wings of the castle reminded the Asgardians of Vanaheim's sensible beauty, in contrast to the regal beauty of Asgard.

Though they arrived at such short notice, King Njörd was at the gate of his castle waiting for them, with a silver crown atop his head. He looked pleased to see them.

"Welcome, my friends!" the King exclaimed, opening his arms and grinning from ear to ear. "I hear you have traveled a great distance to speak with me. But I also hear that you have fought well this day. So I implore you to make yourself at home: bathe, rest. We shall speak when you are brand new."

"The matters we come to discuss are-" Loki began, before being cut off by Thor. The younger prince was hit in the shoulder by his elder brother and stumbled to the side in shock.

"We accept your gracious offer, Lord Njörd of Vanaheim, and will use your resources graciously." Looking irritated, Loki bit his tongue so hard he tasted metal. Leave it to Thor to make a quick operation drawn out excessively. He raised his chin in an effort to shake off the embarrassment that was his brother's actions, despite hearing hiccups of laughter erupting from behind him.

Rekkr, who the King had not given a second glance, walked past Njörd and was greeted by his wife, Queen Skadi. Her handmaidens flocked around the warrior, touching his charred armour gingerly.

Rekkr released a cry of anguish when one of the maidens clumsily rest her hand on his shoulder, where the log had landed from the fire. Njörd paid the sound no mind, despite it piquing the interest of the Asgardians. The sound was odd and did not suit the grim looking warrior at all.

"Where do you reckon he's going?" Volstagg murmured to Fandral as Rekkr was pulled out of sight. The King lead them forward to the castle's grand entrance, while Rekkr had been pulled into the garden, swallowed by the underbrush. Even when the warriors three craned their necks to see any sign of where the warrior had gone, they only caught a flicker of fabric from a woman's skirt.

"Somewhere good," Fandral replied, thinking of the beautiful Vanir women and swooning. "How long do you think we'll be staying?"

"Long enough for you to be rejected by at least ten Vanir women," Hogun said, causing Sif to throw back her head and laugh.

* * *

At dinner that night, Njörd invited the Asgardians to sit at his secluded table out of respect. Many lords and ladies of Vanaheim sat at tables perpendicular to their own, enjoying the last-second feast the king had granted. A few keeners had already taken the dance floor, spinning their adorned dresses and waltzing to the beat of the most serene and celestial music the warriors had ever heard.

Holding his wife's wrist in one hand and a fork in the other, Njörd waited until his guests were comfortable before imploring their reason for being there.

"My father has sent us to secure this area of Vanaheim," Thor explained between digging into the miraculous meal placed before him. He and his companions were noticeably more relaxed than they would have been in the banquet hall of Asgard, but no one dared to scold them for improper manners. Instead, a servant allowed Volstagg to snatch a flask of beer out of their platter with only a closed lip smile as a protest. "We noticed the fire and offered our services."

"For which we are grateful," Njörd nodded, a never ceasing smile on his round features.

"King Njörd," Prince Loki piped up after a lingering silence fell upon the table. There was something on the Prince's mind that he could not shake. "Would it be improper for me to ask about the warrior who lead us here today?"

Queen Skandi looked up from her meal after solemnly pushing around her food. Her attention was focused on her husband alone as he tossed her a weary glance. Turning to the Asgardian, Njörd struggled to maintain a friendly demeanor. "Ask away, my prince."

Noticing Njörd's hesitance and ignoring it, Loki continued: "I'm curious about the staff they wielded. It was long, looked to be made out of wood, and held obvious magical properties."

A servant came to the table, but Njörd waved him away, enraptured by the words that came out of the Prince's mouth. A spark of annoyance could be seen in the way he altered his collar, not convincing any Asgardian he was comfortable with the topic at hand.

"He used it?" Njörd asked for assurance. When Loki nodded with as much genuineness as he could conjure, the king's eyebrows raised in annoyance. His Queen wriggled out of his firm hold and murmured something in his ear. Although Njörd rolled his shoulders back in discomfort, he nodded to her request. Then, after bowing to her guests, she promptly exited the room.

"Did she say where she was going?" Fandral inquired Sif, whose interest was also caught by the Queen. After shaking her head, Sif turned her head to watch the performers sing instead of interfering with whatever Loki was doing to rile up the King.

Rumours about Skandi's dissatisfaction with her husband entered Fandral's mind, but he was sensible enough to seal his mouth. Hogun, who caught Fandral's expression, pushed his plate away and stood.

"Yes, he did," Loki said, abandoning his food as puzzlement overcame his hunger. His voice was loud enough to distract the table from Hogun's hasty exit. "How did he come across such an object?"

"Well…" Njörd said, twirling the fork in his fingers subconsciously. His eyes flickered to the now much larger crowd of dancers, wishing the Asgardians would join them. "It was an object made for him by the mages deep within the mountains."

"And this warrior went to them to get this staff?" Loki inquired.

"Yes, Rekkr hiked for many days and returned with it," Njörd admitted, not liking where the conversation was headed. "But he never told us what he found, or how it was made."

"Is it possible that I could speak with him?" Prince Loki asked, causing the king to straighten in alarm. "Where is he? Is he here?"

"Yes, where is this warrior you call Rekkr," Thor interjected, all of a sudden keenly listening to his brother's conversation. He wished to greet the warrior who had defeated the Mares with such ease and stole his praise.

"He is … not here," Njörd said, burying his fork into a slice of roast more forcefully than needed. "Rekkr does not indulge us with his presence often. He keeps to himself."

Before Loki or Thor could continue pressing the king, Volstagg interrupted with a hearty laugh. "Dear King, this roast is wonderful! I applaud your chefs."

"Thank you," Njörd grinned and leaped on the opportunity to change the subject. "You should taste our pheasant, it is simply divine." The King beckoned a servant over, and he commanded the boy to bring him a large slice of pheasant, and another flask of ale.

Loki crossed his arms, glaring at the king suspiciously. His brother, who saw his scowl, hit his arm with a jolting amount of strength. Loki's eye twitched with barely controlled indignation.

"Don't fret, brother. We'll find this warrior," Thor promised, placing another forkful of fruit into his mouth. "And I shall challenge the warrior to a duel to see how strong this Rekkr truly is."

"Charming," Loki replied, pursing his lips together and staring at his food in careful concentration.

Missing the beauty of night in this realm, Hogun found himself in the gardens. Welcoming a feeling of peace, he looked at the small insects and animals fluttering from bud to bud.

"Hogun!" Volstagg cried, causing Hogun to flinch, then sigh. "My friend, why did you leave? The food was marvelous …"

When the warriors three were standing side by side in the small pathway, Hogun allowed himself to show an inkling of longing in his expression.

"I have missed it here," Hogun admitted. His companions listened with patient ears. "Asgard is glorious, but Vanaheim is where I belong. After this war is over, I hope to the Norns I may return and see my family."

"Where did you say they were?" Fandral asked.

"South," Hogun replied.

"We can ask to visit before we leave for Asgard," Volstagg offered. "That is, if you'll have me and Fandral come with you."

Hogun shook his head, but placed a hand on Volstagg's broad shoulder. "No, the safety of Sif is more important." His friends nodded. He looked up at the stars. "I pray they stay safe until then."

"We will make sure, my friend." Fandral nodded.

"Someone's here," Volstagg whispered, looking from side to side to find a suitable hiding place for his hulking form. "Should we leave?"

The other warriors offered no input, deciding to watch the two people nearing them with a degree of interest. Something glinted off the taller person's head and the three warriors paled.

"Is that … a crown?" Fandral asked, straightening his back instinctively.

Volstagg repeated his question with a bit more urgency: "Should we leave before they see us?"

"They already have," Hogun stated. "Don't stare. Close your mouth, Fandral."

Complying with Hogun's request, Fandral clenched his jaw and looked up at Volstagg, who had another question on the tip of his tongue.

"That's the queen, isn't it?" Volstagg asked to no one in particular.

"No, it's Thor with a piece of metal on his head," Fandral said.

"Yes," Hogun answered, his voice quiet, prompting the other two to lower theirs.

"Do you remember when she was sent off to marry Njörd?" Volstagg questioned, awe in his tone. "I was just a boy, but I remember the treaty; an Aesir woman and the Vanir king…"

"Yes, yes," Fandral shushed him. "Act natural, you oaf."

As the three warriors stood rigid and as unnatural as physically possible, the two women disregarded their presence. Queen Skandi invited her company to join her on a garden bench with a gentle pat. Obliging quickly, the woman looked into the face of her queen with shining eyes.

"This is hard for you." Such a statement made the women feel that much worse. Of course she was upset! The woman, whose stark blonde hair absorbed the moonlight, swiped a tear from her cheek.

"Yes, Your Majesty," the woman hiccuped, feeling gross in front of Skandi. "Please, please forgive me …"

"You have my forgiveness, of course," the Queen promised, placing a gentle hand on the woman's back. "But you know I cannot reason with her. Your mother is a stubborn woman and she has come knocking at our doors more than once."

"I wish she would speak to me instead of," the woman said, voice breaking as she spoke, "disowning me in such a way. I … I don't know how I can … I'm so sorry, Your Majesty."

As the woman's heart bled out of her chest in the form of tears, the Queen wished she could stay. Alas, the Asgardians were in her house that night, and her husband had a tendency to overstep his boundaries. With one last touch to the woman's cheek, Queen Skandi rose and left without a word.

The blonde woman crumpled after being left alone. She rubbed the heels of her hands over her eyes, then used them to cover her ears. Staring at the ground with a trembling lip, she was too distracted to notice the three men that were approaching.

When Fandral knelt next to the woman, she jerked away in fright at the sudden presence. He looked at her blotchy face, and his heart swelled with pity.

Addressing the fear in her expression, Volstagg held his hands up in surrender. "Easy, Miss. We're not here to harm you. We simply wanted to know if you were alright."

"She's obviously not alright," Fandral scolded, shooting his friend a disapproving look before turning back to the woman.

"No, no," the woman said, wiping her eyes hastily and standing up. "I'm quite alright. Thank you for your concern."

"With all due respect, Miss," Fandral said, his voice dying in his throat after seeing her face properly. When he spoke again, an air of suave had taken the place of sternness. "You're clearly not okay. However, I'd be more than happy to help you with any grievance you might be struggling with…"

Hogun rolled his eyes as Volstagg hit his friend upside the head. Their bickering made the woman nervous, and she began to fiddle with her hair. For a brief moment, Hogun caught a glimpse of her pointed ears.

"Pardon me," Hogun said, staring at the side of her head. Noticing his steady gaze, the woman's hands moved to cover her ears. Her grass-green eyes widened in panic, but he continued with his question regardless. "Are you an elf?"

"I … um," the woman stuttered, her tongue growing large in her mouth. "No. No, I … I'm not? I'm not... Sorry, I'm not."

"I could have sworn I saw …" Hogun said, looking at the woman curiously. Her eyes recalled a memory from the back of his mind. That same surprise and terror were emotions that often entered them …

Since her hands were still covering her ears, he got a clear view of her purple beaded bracelet.

"I know you," Hogun stated.

"Do you?" Fandral asked, disappointment on his face.

"Look at her," Hogun commanded, gesturing to the woman who looking increasingly uncomfortable as the men scrutinized her. "Does she not … remind you of someone?"

"It could be one of your old friends," Fandral pointed out.

"No," Volstagg shook his head, bending forward and squinting at the elf . "I've seen you before. And that thing on your wrist … where did you get it?"

"Do you know these men?" Fandral inquired, jerking his thumb to point at Volstagg.

"What's your name?" Hogun demanded, causing the woman to jump backward as the onslaught of words hit her already overloaded senses. The three men waited for a heartbeat, wondering if she would answer. To be honest, she considered lying, but she had to give up the façade sooner or later.

"My name is Dallea," the woman said. The reactions between the men were extremely delayed.

"I know that name," Volstagg declared, turning to his friends for help. "Where do I know that name from?"

Although Hogun chose wrack his brain in silence, his two companions became louder as they tried to find out how the knew this woman.

"I don't remember going to Alfheim recently," Fandral mused, touching his artfully shaved mustache. "You are from Alfheim, correct?"

Nodding, the woman shuffled backward almost unnoticeably. Snapping his fingers, Volstagg asked if she had been at the Harvest Festival this past year. After shaking her head, the woman dared a broader step back.

"Wait," Fandral said, stretching out his arm and causing her to freeze. Morphing his hand to refer to her directly, an image of a much younger girl overtook his mind. "When you were young, did you visit Asgard?"

"Yes," the woman admitted. Eager eyes imploring her to explain, she obliged reluctantly. "I was Prince Loki's companion for years."

Volstagg's jaw hit the ground as Fandral's eyes bulged. Hogun was the only one who smiled at Dallea.

Unable to contain his shock and disbelief, Fandral drew back and his face twisted in surprise. "What? No."

Dallea pursed her lips awkwardly and looked to the side.

Volstagg moved in for an embrace, effectively scaring the daylights out of her. He already has his arms wrapped around her before she could protest, her arms pinned to her chest. Instead of staying absolutely still she patted his shoulder the best she could with her pinned arm. Giving her a tight squeeze before letting go, Volstagg heard her grunt of pain and apologized. Doubt was written all over Fandral's face as he stepped forward for a hug as well.

After letting go, he examined her once more. "Accept my apologies, Lady Dallea, but my mind is still trying to recognize what my eyes are seeing."

"It's quite alright," Dallea assured, permitting a smile to grace her still reddened face. How strange; just a few moments ago, she wished she was anywhere but there.

"What brings you to Vanaheim?" Hogun inquired, bowing to the woman.

"Oh," Dallea said, caught in the spotlight once more. While rubbing her forearm soothingly, she wracked her mind for a suitable excuse. "I … enjoy the architecture."

"Really?"

Dallea nodded as she rubbed her arm and looked anywhere but at their faces.

Fandral shrugged. "We must tell the others! Dallea, Loki is with us. Imagine his face when he sees that you're so … different."

Swallowing hard, Dallea would rather do anything in the world than that. "Uh, actually, I think I have to-"

"What are we waiting for, then?" Volstagg exclaimed, clapping his hands together so loudly that many small animals scurried away in fear. Dallea bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood. Yet she allowed herself to be guided towards the castle.

* * *

She refused to go to each of their rooms and disturb them, so the warriors three promptly split up to gather the Asgardians. Hogun stayed with Dallea in the foyer of the castle, where she had insisted they would be out of the way. In truth, there were more places to escape if this reunion went sour.

"Although I'm flattered, I don't think they will be so excited to see me," Dallea said to Hogun, who shook his head.

"Nonsense, they will be overjoyed to see you again," he insisted. Knowing that arguing would solve nothing, Dallea silently sifted through her turmoiled thoughts and adjusted a shawl placed around her shoulders. What a mistake this will be; the Princes won't even know who she is, and neither will Lady Sif.

The first to return was Volstagg, who brought not only Prince Thor but Sif as well. Dallea turned to greet them with a deep curtsy of respect.

"Well, Volstagg, you were not lying when you said she was different!" Thor joked before reaching out to take hold of Dallea's hand. Kissing her knuckles and giving her a charming smile, Prince Thor's admiration was clear in his stare. Dallea struggled to keep herself composed as a fierce blush attacked her cheeks. "It is wonderful to see you again, Lady Dallea."

How he had remembered her was beyond comprehension, but she returned the compliment quickly. Reluctant to step aside, the Prince was eventually forced to move when Lady Sif pushed forward. She rolled her eyes and offered a hand for Dallea to shake. Dallea's eyes widened at the sight of the Lady before her: her hair! What had happened to her blond hair so similar to her own?

"You can thank Loki for that," Sif explained, pointing at her long black ponytail. Dallea raised her chin and then dropped it slowly, swallowing her confusion for another time. Dallea took her hand and shook it firmly, this time not afraid to meet her gaze.

"Hello," Dallea practically whispered. Sif looked so calm, and Dallea wished she could learn her tricks.

"It is good to see you again, Dally," Sif grinned, inducing a bittersweet taste to enter Dallea's mouth. She couldn't remember the last time someone had called her that.

"You as well," she managed to say. The longer they stood in awkward silence, the more her stomach wanted to leap out of her body in time with her pounding heart. Sif drew her eyebrows together as Dallea wiped the sweat off of her hands, but the elf opted not to look at her instead of saving face.

There wasn't time to ruin the situation further as the creaking of a door and footsteps compelled Dallea to look towards the sound. Fandral walked it, and at his heels was Prince Loki himself. Dallea's throat constricted as all air rushed out of her lungs.

His scan of the room was brief. After all, the others had formed a semi-circle around the only person who he had not travelled to Vanaheim with.

H locked eyes with her and stopped walking. Standing a few feet away, Dallea prayed to the Norns that he would come no closer.

Different was not the word he would have chosen to describe her. The woman in front of him was someone he could only recognize due to her eyes. He remembered the expression of muted terror, but the face itself was … foreign.

She couldn't glean his thoughts from his blank stare, which sent her nerves spiraling once more. With fidgeting hands, she gripped her dress and curtsied for him.

Loki clenched his fists then relaxed them, but the woman was still there. Eventually, he was forced to accept her existence, but he made no move to shake her hand.

"What are you doing in Vanaheim?" he asked. Still not able to tell if his tone was angry or awed, Dallea tried to keep the tremor in her own voice to a minimum.

"I, um," she said, finding herself unable to lie to him. "I live here."

With raised eyebrows, he detected her half lie immediately. He was too good to mistake her stuttering for timidness. "Really? For how long?"

He was definitely more angry than not, and she dropped his gaze because of it. It was understandable, of course. So many years they had been apart, and she didn't remember the last time she sent a letter. "Quite a long time."

Prince Loki looked her over and she adjusted the shawl on her shoulders instinctively. His eyes were drawn to the movement, and he noticed something when the fabric slipped, much to her dismay. The ugly bruise that was forming there encouraged him to take a curious step forward.

"Are you injured?"

"No," she responded too quickly, before squeezing her eyes shut in frustration. "I mean, it was an accident. It's nothing."

Inclining his head, her evasion aroused more suspicion. The closest person to her, Hogun, took a closer look, and his findings caused a disturbed frown to appear on his face.

"Did someone hit you?" Sif demanded, stepping closer and reaching out to steady Dallea.

"No! No, of course not." Dallea stepped away and struggled to find an excuse that would ease them. Giving up with a sigh, she continued: "Something fell on me if you must know, but I'm fine."

Making the mistake of removing her shawl to expose her wound, Dallea quickly looked down at it after Sif's sharp intake of breath. With wide eyes, Dallea saw the grotesque burn mark she hadn't been aware of. Putting it back on herself frantically, the elf shuffled away from the crowd of Asgardians.

"How did you get burned?" Volstagg questioned, still not able to come up with any solutions in his far from sober state. "Was the object on fire?"

"Must have been," Dallea shrugged, damning herself for not wearing a heavier coat. The Asgardians knew something was amiss, and Dallea's heart was beating as if it wanted to break her ribs.

Prince Loki squinted at Dallea as she fought off another onslaught of questions from Sif. Her right shoulder was burned - he could have sworn it was the right shoulder...

When Dallea turned away in exasperation, he noticed a line across her forehead, hidden well by her hair. Yet, it was made unmistakably created by metal. Fading as it was, an onlooker could just make out a swooping indent caused by a helmet.

"You were him," Loki interjected suddenly, astonishment making him shake his head.

"Who?" inquired Dallea, but the panic in her voice said everything. This couldn't be happening. This could not be happening …

"The man at the burning village. The man with the staff," Loki said as the other Asgardians looked as confused as ever. "The one your king calls Rekkr."

"No," Dallea shook her head. "No, you must be mistaken."

And yet the damage was done. No matter how much she shook her head, she couldn't convince them otherwise. They followed Loki's idea with minor hesitance.

"Are you sure, brother?" Thor asked, giving Dallea a second look over, doubt on his face. "She's awfully small."

"So was that warrior," Loki reminded, scoffing in disbelief as he looked to Dallea once more. "You have been busy."

"Is it true?" Sif asked, her eyes shining with delight. Unfortunately, Dallea's eyes couldn't share the joy.

"I," Dallea choked, looking at the ground as if mourning herself. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because-" Dallea began to explain, but she was interrupted by one of Queen Skandi's women charging through the door in search of something. As seven pairs of eyes bore into her, the woman stopped abruptly, surprised to find all of them in one room.

Seemingly dazed for a few seconds, Dallea prompted her to speak with worry in her words:

"Var? Are you alright?"

"Yes," the woman said abruptly, eyes fitting to every person in the room, but ultimately landing on Dallea. "There is a situation in a forest not far from here. It's another fire, and there have been sightings of Mares nearby-"

"Say no more, woman," Thor commanded, lifting a hand to silence her. "Come along, my friends. It is a good thing we stayed after all."

The Asgardian warriors took haste as they leaped across the room in search of their weapons. Unmoving, Dallea watching all but one file out of the room.

Prince Loki's eyes were questioning, and as world-weary as they were, Dallea softened at the sight of them. As shocking as her own persona was, he had grown up well. Flushing when she realized she had been looking over a prince, she made sure to listen carefully as he uttered the words: "Are you coming?"

Swallowing her pride, Dallea managed to give him a ghost of a smile. "We shall soon see."

Though that was no straight answer, the prince's expression lit up as he was proven right. He left her, then, and she watched him leave with nostalgia causing her grin to grow larger. After he was gone, she and Var were alone, and Dallea became solemn once again.

"The King wishes to speak with you," Var said, pity on her face

Taking a deep breath and placing a steadying hand on the woman's shoulder, Dallea swept past her, apprehension in her stride.


	3. Nom de Guerre

_Ch. 3: Nom de Guerre_

* * *

 ** _Warning: A bit of hate violence and prejudice in this chapter. Just in case it might upset someone_.**

* * *

The main difference between Asgard and Vanaheim was the silence that haunted him as he stalked through the halls. Initially, the scholarly atmosphere had grabbed his interest. But now, he strode past various documents and statues without so much as a second glance. He could ask for them to be sent back to Asgard if he so pleased, but the damn quiet was something he never found back home. It refused to break in the echoes of his footsteps and it compelled him to recede into his thoughts. In the corridors of Vanaheim, every person he passed nodded instead of speaking; the leaves of an indoor bush rustled without a whisper; Dallea, who had apparently been living there for a long time, didn't utter a sound when they met that morning in the village.

With unnecessary force, Loki bashed his palm onto the wooden door of his guest chamber, swinging it open violently. How the prince's fevered thoughts became even more agitated was beyond comprehension. Contempt making his mouth curl into a sneer, he began to strap on the various pieces of his armour. He glared at a portrait across the room. Everything about Vanaheim became sour after realizing this is where she had been hiding all of these years. He should have demanded how long. He should have asked if she was planning on ever coming back like she promised she would.

No matter how much Loki's sensible brain reminded him she had promised such things hundreds of years ago, he clung to old anger. Maybe he was too exhausted to feel anything but his reopened wound, but he knew that it was the same anger he felt after she had been gone for the first few years. Loki turned around, sliding his daggers into their rightful places. He clenched his jaw to ease the tension in his mind. Shaking his head as more patronizing thoughts attacked him, the prince's turmoiled emotions took over.

Loki yanked a dagger from its holster and buried it into the only surface in arm's reach.

Releasing the hilt, he looked at the blade that was three inches deep in a mahogany desk. Chest heaving, he felt young again; breaking things because his father had taken away the only decent gift he could give. What was the point of it all? Why in Yggdrasil's name was he the one losing his mind?

Bitterness was all he tasted in his mouth when he thought of Dallea getting on with her life, some second-hand Asgardian prince the farthest thing from her mind.

When he was steady again, he yanked the dagger out of the desk. He prayed she would tag along for this mission Thor had volunteered him for. As Rekkr, or whoever she was pretending to be. Haughtily, he hoped Dallea would be able to see that she was not the only one who had grown in their time apart.

* * *

"You took your sweet time!" Thor taunted, his brother exiting the castle at long last. Out of the warriors three, only Fandral sent a wave of greeting in Loki's direction. "Lucky you weren't a bit slower, or we would have left you behind!"

Worried he might say something he would regret, Loki tried to seem good natured about his brother's teasing, which was a respectable feat for someone with an already tested patience. Peering at the he always put up with, Loki wasn't amused to realize these were the only people coming. All six shifted closer together for convenience as his nostrils flared. Making sure to look away before anyone could read the disdain in his eyes, he tried to clear his mind.

"Heimdall!" Lady Sif called to the heavens, craning her neck backward to give them a pleading look. With politeness that most reserved only for the gatekeeper whom she beckoned, Sif continued: "Take us to the fire."

A blur of a million colours erupted from the sky and enveloped the Asgardians. The crackling of magic and electricity interrupted the peace of Vanaheim. None of the six warriors flinched even as the reality around them shifted. However, the striking sight of the Bifrost at work caught the attention of an elf who could not afford to be distracted at that moment.

Temper rising faster than he could control, King Njörd snapped his fingers in Dallea's face to regain her focus. Frightened, Dallea lurched away. Admittedly, Queen Skandi was present, which made the odds of him physically lashing out shift in favour of Dallea's well-being. But she could never be too careful, especially when the King glared at her with such vehemence.

Trying to still her trembling hands, Dallea cursed herself over and over. The rage he felt was warranted, and the sting of her betrayal made even the Queen stay rigid a few paces to her left. King Njörd stood a step above Dallea, casting a shadow that threatened to swallow her. Only them three occupied the throne room, which was large in size and silver in colour. Spiral columns lined the walls, the portraits between them of nobles long deceased.

The King allowed a second for Dallea's guilt to spill into her expression. "No one is more disgusted than I am," said he.

Even though Dallea felt physically nauseous, she made no move to argue. Anger consuming his fondness for the elf, in that moment he chose to spit out the first scathing things that came to mind as he looked at her.

"After all this time, after all, I trusted you with," Njörd said. Queen Skandi flinched at his harsh tone, but Dallea greeted it with composure she didn't deserve. "You misused the most precious gift we had given to you; that staff is for matters of life or death, not to impress the Asgardians. I misjudged you, I must have."

Blinking as she felt the King's saliva hit her face, Dallea's spine stiffened when the Asgardians were mentioned. She was insulted that he would think so low of her but dared not show it.

"You're nothing but a warrior faithful to the ones who can give you the most," the King accused. "What did you think you would accomplish, by telling them who you are? That they would congratulate you? Remember you? Bring you back to Asgard and crown you their Queen?"

She hadn't moved - she couldn't. Her unresponsiveness mustered a deeper violence in Njörd. He reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Dallea was dragged forward by the King trying to get a firm hold on her ears. The Queen jumped forward, unable to stay a bystander.

Humiliated, tears welled in Dallea's eyes as she bit her tongue to stop herself from crying out in pain. She also drew back her arms so she wouldn't touch the King, knowing her punishment would be much more severe if she did so. His hand found her ear and held fast.

"Enough, Njörd," Queen Skandi ordered. Her commands fell flat as the King held onto Dallea like she was a thrashing demon. "That's enough!"

Mad, the King squeezed her ears and held up an arm to stop his wife from interfering. "Have they seen these? Have you shown them what you are? Were you stupid enough to think you were above us all?"

"Enough!" the Queen screeched, smacking her husband's arm away and grabbing the wrist attached to Dallea. She placed her body between the elf and her King, and all of his anger focused on her instead. "Let go of her. Now."

After a few seconds of heavy breathing, the fire dimmed in Njörd's expression. He flexed both of his hands, freeing Dallea and sending her tumbling. Skandi released her husband and turned to worry about the woman sprawled on the floor. With fresh horror at what had just happened, the Queen hesitantly neared the elf. Her hands never quite touched, only ghosted over Dallea's shoulders, then face, then ears.

The King watched, rubbing his forehead and letting guilt crush him. Although he was sorry for his inexcusable actions, he knew they were just that; inexcusable.

Dallea let herself be helped but refused to remove her palms from the sides of her head. Skandi was far too angry to even glare at her husband. So she instead looked to Dallea on what came next.

The only answer that seemed amicable to the elf was to collapse again. Before she could, the squeaking of the grand doors heralded Var's entrance. What timing she seemed to have.

"Yes?" Skandi asked, her voice as neutral as could be. Njörd had yet to find his voice, instead turning away altogether from the three women.

"Your majesties," Var began, curtsying. When she rose, her panic could be spotted from miles away. "The Mages have come forward to assist the fire."

"What?" Skandi demanded, her eyes larger than the moon. Dallea dropped her hands to her sides. She had to remind herself how to breathe with this new information. Even Njörd abandoned his shame and turned to the handmaiden, her words still registering in his mind.

"They say it is not a simple forest fire," Var's voice trembled. The fear amongst the royalty of Vanaheim made her nervous. "And they say that there are not just Mares."

Eager for Var to elaborate, Njörd took a step forward. Dallea looked at Queen Skandi, whose eyes never left her handmaiden's.

There was a minute where the blinking of their eyes became audible. The silver room resembled a coffin more than a royal chamber.

"No," Njörd denied. His voice was booming, but no matter how he yelled, the tremor in his voice refused to vanish. "No, that's not possible."

"Where?" Skandi asked. Her voice was tedious and dreading an answer.

"Near the North Mountains," Var said, her words tumbling out of her mouth as panic consumed her. "But closer to the temples. Your majesties, it's not … it's not still there, is it?"

Judging by the way Njörd's face collapsed due to realization, the answer was yes. Queen Skandi pinched Dallea's arm in using the elf to keep her steady. Glazed eyes on the floor offered Dallea no answers. She looked to Var.

Though unsure if she should elaborate, Var licked her lips and told her anyway. "In the Temple of Awe, the smallest temple in the realm, there is a casket. It's imbued with unstable dark magic, and-"

"And has been secure for centuries," Njörd finishes, inviting Skandi and Dallea to cast their attention his way. "No one goes to the Northern Mages, most can't make it through the forest." He turned and spoke directly to Dallea. "You know this."

His tone was complimentary. He felt bad for what had happened prior, but Dallea did not have the energy to meet his eye.

"This casket," Dallea implored, forcing herself to look at her Queen. "Is there something inside it?"

"We don't know," the Queen admitted, shaking her head grimly. "It was forged using the same metal as the one that binds the Tesseract, so we decided not to risk it."

The Tesseract being the object that gave the Frost Giants their power so many years ago, Dallea received a chill just thinking about what this casket could hold. Something dangerous. If their enemy had sent to steal this object, perhaps they knew how to wield it to their advantage. Dallea's jaw tightened.

Var looked to the floor. Dallea, her mind racing, released herself from Skandi's embrace. Although plagued with newfound terror, the Queen's eyes softened when she looked at Dallea. The elf's disheveled hair was a grim reminder that Dallea's mind may not be as sound as it should.

"You don't have to," Skandi offered, despite them both knowing her statement wasn't true. The only other warriors who had ventured to the Northern Mountains and lived were long retired. She had not seen any temples in her journey, but if it was a forest fire she was tracking, she had a chance.

Dallea pursed her lips together and touched the Queen's shoulder in an attempt to soothe her. The elf even mustered enough courage to send a glance to Njörd, whose face was unreadable.

Dallea refused to linger a second longer, turning to Var and picking up her skirts. She ran across the hall towards the main doors with a purpose in her stride. "Var, please tell my soldiers to ready themselves."

The handmaiden nodded, then scurried out of Dallea's way as she sprinted past. The Queen folded her hands and watched Dallea go, knowing she would not be 'Dallea' for much longer.

* * *

Vanaheim was lush, there was no argument. In the gloom of night, the green stood out vibrantly, almost glowing as the Asgardians hurried towards the fire. The haze of smoke reached their noses as they got closer. Then eerie billows of smog curled just beyond their vision. It wasn't until they stepped out of a break from the dense brush that they were able to see the fire.

Replaced with a bonfire that was slowly spreading, the skeletons of burnt trees crumpled in the heat. The hill on which the inferno blazed was steep enough for the warriors to see the molten earth. It bubbling as if the ground was alive.

Standing rigid in the river that flowed directly into the pandemonium, a few deer watched the chaos with a degree of glassy interest. In fact, when Prince Loki looked up to check the trees, he noticed quite a number of birds watching as well; as if the fire that devoured their homes was a well-directed play.

While Sif sprinted past, she slapped Volstagg's arm to spur him into moving. Thor was already a few steps ahead of them. But as they got closer to the fire, the warriors three veered off the riverside path. Still like statues, the deer didn't even flinch as Sif charged across the river, spotting a few Mares on the other side. No one noticed that the younger prince had not followed.

Puzzled, Loki watched his brother run towards the molten hillside. Waving his hand in an attempt to whisk away some of the smoke in his eyes, Loki squinted at the slope. Dread filled his stomach.

Thor landed in the middle of the fire, right on a pack of unexpecting Mares. After successfully flattening them, he grinned expectantly. He spun his hammer by its strap. When he jumped away again, soaring into the air in search of more enemies to decimate, he failed to notice the people he left sprawling in his wake. The amulets around their necks inflated their egos enough to feel spiteful of the prince who had humiliated them. The Mages rose to their feet, ignoring a sting of bitterness, and held their hands to the sky to resume the spell they were crafting.

Although Loki couldn't see those Mages murmuring words inaudibly, he could tell something magical was at play. The forest was too expectant; like it was holding its breath. Like the grandiose wood was trembling, hoping its predator would not attack.

The earth moved too suddenly to be classified as the shifting of rocks. Prince Loki dropped his hand to his side and opened his mouth in shock.

* * *

Sif, who had wandered to the west, yanked her spear out of a Mare as the restless ground tossed her off balance. Scrambling for a foothold, she was forced to kneel against the earth in an attempt to remain steady. A Mare jumped on her back, pushing her to the ground. In her vulnerable state, another Mare took the opportunity to leap on her as well. She grunted in pain. They sat on her spear and began to crush her chest.

* * *

The warriors three, who had ventured to the east of the inferno, looked to each other for answers. The Mares they were fighting turned and scuttled away. Fandral went down on one knee and examined the pebbles that were jumping to and fro.

* * *

Even Thor, who had just swung his hammer onto the earth with a mighty crash, noticed the ground was still trembling long after he had stood to his full height. Baffled, he coughed out the smoke entering his lungs. The prince decided to escape the flames before they engulfed him entirely.

The Mages were not confused, only terrified at their spell gone awry.

The longer Loki watched, the clearer the silhouette became: massive arms attached to a trunk of a waist, two legs almost reaching the river, and a head that twitched in irritation. No eyes; it was asleep?

The deer leaped out of the river as birds from as far as the eye could see took to the sky. Squawks and shrill cries of terror echoed, almost drowning out the sound of the ever-raging forest fire.

Loki was the first to see its eyes, and the sight of them made him snap his fingers and disappear.. Yet even in his cloaked state, he couldn't run: disturbed fascination forced him to watch the giant shake off the dirt on his face.

Raising its neck to see what noise woke him, the giant opened its mouth. It did not bellow or growl, in fact, it uttered nothing but a huff of air. Snorting like a feral animal, the giant raised its arm and touched its head gingerly.

The warriors three, who were the closest to said arm, were knocked backward by the shifting of the ground. The giant was cocooned in the earth and covered with trees that had already fallen. The long dead oaks and spruces rolled towards the three faster than they could get away. Volstagg stepped forward to shield his friends but ended up being knocked down then buried by the still-burning lumber.

"No!" Fandral shouted, watching Volstagg disappear from sight. Though as he moved forward to help, more trees blocked his path. The ground rumbled. Hogun and Fandral staggered back helplessly. When the rain of timber slowed to a halt, the two remaining warriors began to climb through the wreckage to free their companion.

* * *

Thor landed on the path where he had last seen his friends and he panicked upon seeing they were nowhere in sight.

"Loki!" Thor bellowed, forcing his voice to be heard over the commotion. "Loki, where are you?"

"Sh!" Loki hissed, appearing next to his brother and smacking his arm. "Quiet! You're going to get its attention, you-"

A roar that made their chests vibrate ripped the words from his mouth. The giant had thrown its head back and screamed for the whole realm to hear. However the immediate problem was being at its feet, as Thor and Loki were, and watching it haul itself upright.

* * *

An explosion of noise sent all of the horses into a panic. They reared and whined as Rekkr and his pack of warriors tried to calm them down. In the excitement, Rekkr's heart beat like the thrumming wings of a caged bird. She knew precisely what had made that terrible sound.

Rekkr heaved the reins of her horse and forced its compliance. After all four hooves were on the ground, she waited. Waited to detect where the conflict was through the sounds of chaos in the wind.

Smoke plagued the forest until not even the trees dared to sway, yet just beyond, the cacophony of destruction could be heard. The echoes suggested the fight was far away; enough to stay safe from whatever was wreaking havoc. Instead, Rekkr vaulted off of her horse. She landed in a squat on the ground, unafraid of the still restless horses scuffing the dirt beside her.

A hum of the earth gave her the fear she needed to keep going. Rekkr removed her hand from the ground and rose. The fire was north of where she stood.

Pointing a gloved hand to their destination, her men shifted, terror like an airborne sickness that shook them to the core.

* * *

"Keep still!" Easy for Loki to say being the one who had no problem cowering as a giant towered above them, hidden beyond the umbrella of leaves. Even Thor in his antsy state knew that the fire was still spreading. They couldn't hide forever, as much as the younger prince insisted they do so; he feared that if they move into a clearing the giant would strike. His precautions were wise, but when would they expire?

The answer was given in the form of Hogun calling the eldest prince's name. Granted, the warrior tried to keep his voice low, but the noise he made sent Loki into a panic. "Thor! Thank the Norns I've found you. Volstagg is stuck; we need your strength."

Now that Thor had a reason to outright ignore his brother, he took it and fled towards his friend, leaving Loki in his dust. Gritting his teeth, Loki hesitated before darting after Thor. Every step he took was another leap towards Hel, but there was strength in numbers.

* * *

Fully upright, the giant was huge. It dominated the sky, blocking out the moon as smoke made its bouldered skin melt into a shadow. Eyes alight with fiery coals, the scraps of torn cloth around its body clung to its waist desperately. The train of thought inside Fire Giant was short: Go north.

As if any free thought was converted into mass, the Fire Giant was three times the size of its regular kind but lacked the brains to do anything but march forward. It took a step and the fires on its skin lit up a new part of the forest. It tried to move again. Something hit it in the face.

* * *

"I've got you, I've got you…" Fandral chanted, holding onto Volstagg's only exposed hand. His friend groaned as Thor, hammer abandoned on the ground next to him, wrenched the fallen trees off of the red-haired warrior. Hogun planted his feet on the charred wood and tugged, not making much progress in freeing Volstagg. Attentive to the spectacle, but not involved, Loki hovered to the side. He jumped out of his skin when an ear-splitting bang discharged an electric spike of magic, coming from the direction of the Giant.

Distressed, Loki stepped fully into the clearing to see it standing dangerously close. Smoke seemed to swirl around it, alive as the giant pumped heat out of every pore. It was reeling back, shielding its nose. Recovering quickly, the beast roared at the sky, its jagged teeth nothing more than sharp gravel jutting out of a tar black mouth.

It tried to step forward once more but was stopped yet again by an invisible barrier. However, when Loki squinted at the sky through layers of smoke, he spotted a pulse of magic. Sparks of bright blue vibrated across a conjured blockade, making its presence known for a few frenzied seconds every time the Giant tried to move through it.

Loki turned to his brother. Thor had almost freed Volstagg and the large warrior was grunting loudly as he allowed himself to be hauled out of his wooden prison. Loki jumped over a few stray pieces of hardwood so his brother could hear his voice.

"Hurry up, we have to go north," Loki commanded, but Thor neglected his brother's warning. Loki leaped forward again, nearly being hit as Thor threw a tree in his direction. "Thor! Listen to me!"

"Not now, Loki," Thor grumbled while clamping his lips together, the veins in his arms popping as he lifted a fully grown tree off the ground. After throwing it away, he greeted Loki's thunderous expression with a smile. "What are you pestering me about?"

Shoving his indignation to the back of his mind, Loki repeated: "We need to go west."

The giant rumbled again. Loki spun around, uncovering a dagger in a heartbeat. When the prince peeked into the clearing, he saw the giant stretching its fingers out to touch the barrier. Was it clever enough to go around?

"And why is that?" Thor asked, retrieving Mjolnir and examining it. Desperate to keep his brother's attention, Loki scampered in front of him, extending his hands towards him. His palms were skyward, attempting to give Thor the patience to listen to what he had to say.

"There's a barrier preventing the giant from going north. If we want to live, we have to go to that barrier." Loki sought out his most reasonable tone of voice. But when Thor looked at him, he didn't see even a glimmer of compliance. Loki's face fell.

"We will not run and hide, brother," Thor spat, a grim smile still on his lips. Rage danced in Loki's vision, taking the form of a red tint. Of course, Thor would see him as a coward for wanting to survive. "No son of Odin will flee this day. We will fight this beast-"

Exploding from the right came four men in sweeping cloaks. They dashed across the wreckage of the forest, nearly pushing Volstagg back into the trees in their haste to keep moving. One, whose beard was the colour of soot, slowed to hit the five warriors with an intense glare.

"Shoo!" he ordered, shifting his spellbook to his hand to wave the Asgardians away. Thor drew back, insulted. The warriors three exchanged amused looks, and Loki shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Leave this place. Such a beast won't be downed by brute force, you oaf."

"Do you know of whom you speak to?" Thor interjected, taking a few steps forward to tower over the Mage. The much shorter man scuttled away so as not to be crushed under the prince's hammer, but the eldest son of Odin had not served a piece of his mind just yet. "I will not tolerate some strange little man in a dress slandering the future King of Asgard…"

Loki was by his side in an instant, a shadow hovering over his shoulder. "Enough. Your time will come."

Thor grunted, baring his teeth at another Mage who dared to look back. Rolling his shoulders, he had no choice but to listen to Loki whisper into his ear. Though the younger man was indignant at Thor's brash statements, he opted survival first, payback later.

"You can show those silly little men exactly how strong you are when you defeat the giant," Loki insisted, fanning Thor's ego shamelessly. The warriors three couldn't hear what the youngest prince was saying, but they guessed it was nothing good. "Follow them. Make sure they see you when you bring this beast to its knees."

Thor nodded, and Loki's eyes widened, very pleased with himself.

"Where is Sif?" Fandral inquired, looking over his shoulder. "Do you think she's alright?"

Stopping in mid-stride, Thor looked around the clearing as if that would reveal their friend. A roar from the giant sent Loki's heartbeat into a frenzy, so when he spoke, his tone was brash.

"Of course she is," Loki assured, placing a guiding hand on his brother's shoulder. "Have you met her?'

"I think we should find her," Fandral continued, nodding at Hogun and Volstagg. "She could be stuck as well, for all we know."

"Have fun with that," Loki said curtly. Thor brushed off the hand on his shoulder, and the raven haired prince rounded on his brother in disbelief. "What are you doing? There's three of them; they can find her well enough on their own."

"Loki," Thor tsked, but was interrupted by the thin canopy of leaves above them being torn away. When the Asgardians looked to the sky, they only saw the Fire Giant in all its glory. It was bending down to see them more clearly. Loki vanished from sight with another snap.

In its mind, no cogs were turning. But when it got a good look at the tiny warriors, a new command was ordered: kill all four of them.

Volstagg stumbled backward, mesmerized by the Giant's face. It's pupils dilated. Embers in its eye turned completely black with bloodlust. A hand reached out to crush the warriors.

Shouting while jumping out of harm's way, the warriors three covered their heads and tucked in their limbs.. Thor shifted his feet to greet the fist head on. When it came close, he matched its strength with his own and threw the beast off balance.

"Aha," Thor jeered, his sadistic smile returning. The Giant swiveled its head around, zeroing in on the warrior who spewed curses. A rumbling sound came from its throat, but the prince was far too busy yelling to hear. "Come again, you beast! All cower beneath the might of Mjolnir."

The giant bellowed an indistinguishable cry, outraged at the blond man in front of him. Unfazed, Thor squinted through the giant's hot breath and bent his knees. He launched himself toward the giant, hammer aiming for its chest.

Reacting quicker than expected, the Fire Giant swatted Thor away with the palm of its hand. Flailing through the air as his hammer was yanked out of reach, Thor landed on a fallen stack of timber. Alive and furious, he leaped up and began to search for his prized weapon.

With its attention diverted from Thor, the Giant began to follow the warriors three as they sprinted through the trees. Since they were going north towards the invisible barrier, the Giant yanked some still-standing trees from the earth to find them before they crossed it.

As uncomfortable as running with an ax was, Volstagg swallowed his discomfort and ran red-faced to wherever Hogun was leading him. To his left, Fandral gripped the end of his foil with bulging eyes.

"A bloody Fire Giant, as I live and breathe," Fandral crowed, laughing hysterically as the Giant's fevered searching drew closer to their location. "The Norns have really blessed us today, haven't they, my friend?"

Not able to answer since he was so out of breath, Volstagg puffed his cheeks and grunted as a response. He was so focused on running, he failed to notice the recently reappeared Prince, who stumbled into him.

Loki was running away, like a sane person, when a wave of magical energy surged through him. Dazed and confused, he stopped his invisibility spell to catch his breath. He touched his chest plate, feeling his lungs constrict. That was when Volstagg charged past him, sending him flying into the dirt.

Barely able to wheeze an apology, Volstagg didn't turn back to check if the prince had gotten up at all. Stricken, Loki remained on the ground, a headache forming behind his eyes. A drumming sound that adopted a quicker pace every beat echoed through his head. He touched his eyes and tried to stay conscious as pain flashed through him.

All of a sudden, it was gone. He breathed freely again. Looking up, he could see a Mage glaring back with disapproval. Did that quim just hex him?!

No. The Mage spun on his heel and retreated, leaving Loki to turn and see what exactly had just happened. Lying on his back, chest still heaving, he saw the Fire Giant reel back in pain. Displaying the same symptoms Loki had just had, the prince raised his brow. The prince had simply been in the way of the spell and got caught in the crossfire.

As Loki made a move to rise to his feet, the Mage's hex wore off of the giant. It turned around, somehow even more enraged than before. Turning to the spot where the spell had come from, the giant tore a tree out of the ground. A tree that was dangerously close to where Loki was thrown back off balance.

Vulnerable, Loki met the Fire Giant's gaze. Its mind held a simple thought: kill.

It was too late to cast an invisibility spell and Loki doubted he could hold this monster off with his magic alone. If the Mages of Vanaheim couldn't do it, what chance did he have?

Its hand descended from the sky, ready to wipe him out of existence. Loki raised his hand and shouted a spell in a last-ditch effort to save his own life. Ready for his palm and the giant's to connect in his final moments, the prince buried his face into his elbow and waited for death.

A grunt of effort. It certainly did not sound as if the giant had omitted this sound, but the noise came from close by. Loki felt someone kick his leg and heard the giant squawk. He chanced a look at what was happening.

A figure dressed in all black was kneeling next to him, the blade of their sword pointing towards the sky. The giant's hand jolted away from them. It must have been stabbed by that sword. Loki waited a moment with wide eyes, not recognizing the person who turned to look at him. Through a thick mask, his saviour's voice was muffled.

"Are you alright?" Though it sounded as if she were choking on cloth, Loki recognized the voice as Dallea's. Her voice was comically laced with worry, contrasting with her sinister looking armour.

"Yes," Loki said, having trouble finding his words. He could only see a faint glimmer of her eyes beneath that mask, and it was a daunting sight. "Good thing you decided to come."

"Yeah," Dallea breathed, relishing in the alien feeling of talking with her on mask. She moved her sword, distracted for a moment. Still sprawled on the ground, Loki watched the giant's hand plummet towards them again. He grabbed Dallea by the strap on her shoulder and forced her to roll with him, out of harm's way. Loki found his wits and cast a quick spell. Much to the giant's dismay, the two whom he wanted to crush vanished from sight.

Hit with a flash of pain, Dallea wheezed. Loki, who still had a tight grip on her shoulder, tore his eyes away from the giant. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Dallea gasped, hand shaking as it touched her shoulder. "It's just … I burnt my …"

"Damn it," Loki murmured, awkwardly adjusting his hold on her injured arm. His other hand was stuck beneath him, an unfortunate limb to roll on top of. "It's only for a few more seconds. We need to keep contact for the spell to work on both of us."

"You …" Instantly, admiration leaked into her voice. Swiftly, her pain lessened. "You can … are we invisible?"

"Yes," Loki said. It was a strange thing to smile while in such danger, but he could tell Dallea was doing the same.

"This is amazing," Dallea laughed, pure hysterics making her emotions tumble over one another. As flattered as he was, Loki forced himself to keep his gaze set on the looming Fire Giant.

From somewhere to the north, the Mages of Vanaheim shot a cannonball of magic that struck the giant square in the chest. It stumbled but refused to fall. That's when Thor came shooting out of the brush, giving the giant an uppercut with his hammer.

Both Dallea and Loki covered their mouths in awe at the might of the eldest prince as he sent the giant tumbling to the ground. Thor's whoops of joy echoed throughout the forest. Thankful that they were already on the ground, Dallea and Loki couldn't be thrown too far when the Fire Giant hit the earth.

There were a few seconds where they seemed to levitate. Those moments where the Giant met the ground shook the entire realm - or at least it felt like it. Then they crashed to the dirt, Dallea landing on her bad arm in the process.

"Yggdrasil…" Dallea swore, clenching her jaw as tightly as she could. Beside her, Loki rubbed the back of his head, groaning in pain. They rose to their feet, using the surrounding trees for assistance.

After a heartbeat of heavy breathing, Loki, who was rubbing his arm thoughtfully, asked: "How'd you find me?"

"With my eyes," Dallea said automatically but shrunk when Loki showed no signs of amusement. "Sorry. I heard something coming from around this area, and since I was passing by I made a stop on the way."

"Where were you going?" Loki pressed, eyes narrowing. Her back stiffened. The next words that came from her mouth were the most unconvincing lies he had ever heard.

"Surveying the area," she said. He opened his mouth to demand the truth, but a whooping noise cut through the forest. The warriors three were hollering not too far away, congratulating their friend on taking down the beast.

Nervously, Dallea adjusted her mask. Loki turned to glare at the three warriors, who were now calling his name. They asked if he saw the spectacle as well. With haste in her steps, Dallea snuck into the trees, heading north. The King and Queen were still counting on her.

"Where is he?" Loki asked while on the subject of his brother. Hogun shrugged, but Fandral pointed vaguely to where the giant had fallen.

"He's probably gloating to those Mages. He won't be long."

Nodding, Loki pivoted to toss some words at Dallea. "He's always-"

Shock stole the sentence from his mouth. She was gone. Spinning around to see if she was still in sight, Loki felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment. Then he flushed with anger.

"Come along, Loki," Fandral called to the youngest prince. The warriors three watched the raven haired man search for something with a peculiar look in his eye. With a hand on his foil, the blond warrior squinted at him, concerned. "We must go search for Sif."

Though his mind was fuming over another woman, Loki followed the warriors without protest. Armed with clenched fists and a tight jaw, Loki forced himself not to waste a second thought on that dreadful Rekkr.

* * *

After a few minutes of walking, the four Asgardians stumbled across some Vanir warriors. They congratulated them on defeating the giant. Not having the heart to correct the soldiers, the four Asgardians soaked up the praise. While demanding to be lead where they had hitched their horses, of course.

The camp they were guided to was sloppy. Set up in an obvious hurry, it was a wonder that it managed to be well lit with such a sparse population. Each man was doing something, which made a hum of commotion buzz in their ears.

"Are you hungry?" a soldier inquired, ashamed he couldn't do better to entertain his important guests.

Before Volstagg could open his mouth, Hogun stepped forward. "No, but we require your help."

"Anything you need," the soldier assured.

"Our friend, her name is Sif, was separated from us before our battle," Hogun explained. There was a kindness in how he talked to the man; as if he were an old acquaintance. "Your resources are limited but we must find her. Anything that you can do will be greatly appreciated."

The soldier deflated. Flickering his eyes to the other Vanir warriors in the camp, they all avoided his gaze. He tried thinking of a way to phrase his words to ensure they would not be insulted. Fortunately, he was interrupted by Thor entering the camp in an uproar.

"All those who have seen me slay that beast should repay me with glory!" Thor ordered. He was swinging his hammer and grinning like a maniac. Still fresh with adrenaline, the eldest prince spoke loud enough to wake the giant he had just put to sleep. "I have saved you, Vanir men. Your men in dresses slandered me, but I continued."

Pushing past the Vanir men, despite just asking for their praise, he opened his arms to his fellow Asgardians. Since Loki was the closest, he was the one who was slapped on the shoulder.

"All of you owe me your lives," Thor declared. He held Loki in place with a laugh even though his brother squirmed in his grasp.

"Very good, Thor," Volstagg sighed, pretending that Thor's boasting made him physically sick. "But we still have not found Sif."

Thor's smile faded gradually. Furrowing his brow as if not understanding the predicament, Thor took a minute to absorb this information. "She's not here?"

"We have no idea where she is, brother dearest," Loki said, shoving Thor's hand off of him. "While you were away claiming your glory, she might have been in need of your help."

"But you said," Thor stated, confused. Loki knew what he said, but the younger prince thought quicker than Thor.

"I was wrong," Loki said. Knocking that smug grin off of Thor's face was worth what he just admitted. Guilt made Thor shift restlessly.

Finally admitting to the Vanaheim warriors' existence, Thor rounded on them suddenly. He pointed at the closest one using Mjolnir. Flinching, the man dropped the sword he was cleaning to raise an arm for protection.

"You," Thor shouted. "Go and find her. She could not have strayed far."

"Your majesty," the warrior started while bowing his head. His voice was meek. "We are not permitted to take directions from anyone but our Commander."

"Nonsense," Thor scoffed. "You know who I am, now heed my words."

Praying for the safety of his own well-being, the warrior closed his eyes for a moment. Upon opening them, he could see Thor was now visibly annoyed. "I apologize deeply my Prince, but the instructions we were given were very clear: under no circumstances stray from our Commander's orders."

Smiling, Thor offered a mirthless laugh. "Are you challenging my authority?"

Amused, Loki watched the little Vanir man regret being born in those next few seconds. Though less entertained but equally as interested, the warriors three watched in silence.

"No, never, your highness…"

"Choose your next words carefully, wretch," Thor warned.

Aware of whom he was speaking to, the man kept his tone level. "We are to follow our Commander's directions," the man extending his hands desperately, still trying to appease to the irritable Prince, "but he will no doubt heed your words once you…"

"And who is this Commander?" Thor asked, searching for a grandiose man wielding a mighty sword without allowing the soldier to respond.

"We call him Rekkr." Conflicted as to whether or not he should turn and point in the direction his leader was last seen, the man angled his shoulders. Loki inclined his head while listening intently. "He said he was-"

"And where is he?" Thor demanded, talking down to the soldier as if he were a stubborn chamber maid. Thor recalled that name; it was the man from that morning whose mystery stole his praise.

"H-he said he was-" the warrior gulped, trying to say his words without cowering too noticeably.

"Rekkr!" A friend of the cowering soldier spotted their leader and heralded him with waving hands. "There he is."

When Dallea re-entered the clearing, she paid no mind to the shouting of her name. She didn't even bother looking up from the ground. It was important for her soldiers to know where she was … most of the time. What she did not expect was Prince Thor challenging her the second she set foot in her own camp.

For Yggdrasil's sake, she thought, but kept her lips sealed. She backed up uncomfortably as her personal space was invaded.

"Rekkr," Thor said, spitting the name out of his mouth. "You are in charge of these … these miserable excuses for warriors?"

Rekkr moved her hands, sending Thor's limited attention to them instead of her unyielding face. Slowly, she made the sign of questioning with her hands in a hope that he would understand. He didn't.

The same soldier who had announced her presence stepped forward before Thor's temper consumed him. "Forgive him, my Prince, for he cannot speak …"

"Why not?" snapped Thor. These Vanir warriors were on a dangerous path if they continued to offend him in such a way.

"His voice is damaged from an accident. When he was young, he lost his ability to speak properly." The Prince hesitated for a second but refused to acknowledge the admittedly good excuse.

"Then how does he give you commands?" Thor asked, more frustrated than curious.

"He uses a signing technique with his hands," the man explained, risking a step closer. "At the moment he is asking what he can do for you."

Too surly to be gracious, Thor used his height to make Rekkr shrink beneath him. "Send your warriors to find the other Asgardian."

Moving his hands, Rekkr turned to show his movements to the soldier who was willing to translate. The man nodded, then looked to Thor. "He asks what this Asgardian looks like, and for a location where we could look for him."

"She's not a man, you oaf!" Thor snarled at Rekkr, who raised her hands in apology. Fists curling in agitation, Thor continued. "Her name is Sif and the last I saw of her was by the river to the east of here."

That river was thousands and thousands of miles long, but Rekkr was too afraid to say so. She began to panic. The audience watching her grew with every passing moment, and she could see the other Asgardian prince ambling ever closer. Trapped as she was beneath Thor's impatience she could only hope for a miracle to save her.

Loki recognized the signing that Dallea - Rekkr - did as the language of Mages who had sworn an oath of silence. He could pick up a few of her phrases, but with the shaking of her hands, it was difficult. By the Norns, she must be terrified. He watched few steps away, keen to see what came next.

Dallea thought quickly. After surveying the camp for a means of escape, something dawned on her. She flattened her hand and rotated it before separating her index finger from the rest.

"He says a quarter of our soldiers are still missing," the warrior said, watching as Rekkr brushed the imaginary dust off of her glove then connected the pads of her thumbs. "And that they may be with your missing friend."

Before Thor could threaten her into sending more to search, a bird whistle caught the camp off guard. The eldest prince furrowed his eyebrows and turned to his friends. Relieved, Rekkr took a step away from Thor and pulled out a small instrument from a pouch in her sleeve. Instead of blowing it herself, she passed it to the warrior next to her. He took it respectfully and tried to hide his awed expression as he blew into the tiny flute. From it came a musical honk, only slightly resembling the first noise.

The soldier, after smiling at the smoke-filled sky, looked to a perplexed Thor. "It's the Vanir soldiers."

"Is Sif among them?" Thor demanded.

"This whistle is only blown if one of us is injured," the man explained. "But the other Asgardian could be with them-"

Pushing past both Rekkr and the soldier, Thor marched into the forest, following the direction of where he had heard the whistle. Disgruntled, Rekkr watched him go. Or, try to go. He stepped back after being halted by Vanir soldiers emerging from the forest. They stood covered in blood and dirt, shining in the torchlight. Four of them held a makeshift stretcher on their shoulders. Laying atop of it was a woman whose face was drenched in dried blood. Her midnight black hair was disheveled and entangled with sticks and stones.

"Dear god," Hogun said, sprinting towards the stretcher to stand beside Thor. The prince was speechless, staring at his unconscious friend with a copious amount of guilt. "How did this happen?"

The soldier whom Hogun tried to speak with looked beyond the Asgardian and called to Rekkr instead. She stood rigid, watching the warriors three and Thor swarm around Sif's limp form. Seeing her in such a state was disturbing, to say the least.

"She was fending off a herd of Mares east of the river when we found her," the soldier explained. "We helped but there were so many of them." His voice began to break from exhaustion. "They were huge and came from everywhere…"

Rekkr nodded, gesturing for him to sit down. Five soldiers had returned, which meant they had lost eight men in that battle. The man who had given her the report was their designated medical officer, but the last thing Rekkr wanted to do was rush him after an obviously traumatic experience. Thor didn't feel the same.

Noticing the medical seal on his helmet, Thor narrowed his eyes at the man. Face awash with desperation, Thor grabbed the medic by the arm and shoved him towards where Sif lay. "Do something."

The rest of her soldiers, although conversing quietly amongst themselves, went back to their individual tasks. Rekkr watched her medic flit around Sif, trembling under the Asgardians' ferocity.

"Quite a coincidence, don't you think?" Rekkr froze, closing her eyes as scathing words made ice form in her veins. "That they return right when you need them to."

Rekkr turned slowly to face Prince Loki. His face was unreadable.

Yes, Rekkr signed, then looked away.

"He says-" the soldier began, but was cut off by Loki shrewdly.

"I know what she's saying."

The word 'she' made every soldier in earshot balk simultaneously. A heavy silence suffocated the Vanir men.

Although shaken, Rekkr turned towards her soldier, asking him without words to ready their departure. The soldier leaned away from Rekkr despite knowing what lay behind her mask. Bothered by her forced nonchalance, Loki spoke louder.

"It makes someone wonder." Rekkr struggled to keep her breathing steady. "What else are you hiding?"

She was tired, suddenly. Looking to the prince, she signed: What do you want?

"The truth," Loki stated firmly. Njörd's words attacked Rekkr in that moment: perhaps he had been right. After all, she was the one who spoke aloud while wearing that mask. She had broken a promise she made so long ago because she asked if Loki was alright.

I can't do that.

"Why not?' Loki demanded, inclining his head as Rekkr cast his gaze to the ground.

This is my home.

"And your definition of home is having people spit in your face when they mention who you are?" Loki asked, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Abruptly, Dallea understood his words. He was asking why, of course, but not why she tolerated this kind of abuse. He wanted to know why she had chosen this, instead of something else. It was so hard to look at him at that moment and see anything except the same boy whom she left. And that little boy wanted to know why she would rather get spit on every day than go back.

It's not that simple.

His eye twitched, but he had nothing else to say to her. Rekkr unclenched her hands, watching Loki turn away. After all this time he was still angry. To think he had forgotten about her.

"Loki!" Dallea called out.

The Prince swore his mind was playing tricks on him. Yet when he turned around to look, Rekkr was removed along with her mask. Covered in soot and grief, Dallea stood in his place. She dropped the mask to the ground and looked at the prince, trying to gauge his thoughts.

Loki was frozen for a few more seconds, but disbelief melted him. Her eyes never left him even though her camp was beginning to panic. What was she doing?

When she saw the corners of his mouth quirk upwards, her face broke into a smile. Adrenaline buzzed through Dallea's entire body, but she was weightless. Her hair in disarray from her helmet, sweat made her glisten in the torchlight. She was a mess, but still a sight for sore eyes.

"It's good to see you again," Loki said. As strange as this reunion was, he welcomed it.

"You too." Dallea's voice was breathy and her smile was genuine.


	4. Calm Abiding

_Chapter 4 - Calm Abiding_

* * *

So grave was Sif's condition that the Asgardians were afraid to travel through the Bifrost. Yet they couldn't stay in the woods, so they decided to return to the Castle of Vanaheim until she woke, at least. Dallea gave Sif her horse and four of her men offered their steeds to the Asgardians. Loki chose to walk.

Drained, Dallea tugged on the reins of her horse and even though she was a few steps ahead, she could almost sense her mask, in a bag on the saddle. Like an electric pulse, it radiated her shame. How long could she disassociate herself from that guilt?

The forest they walked through was empty, but the Vanir soldiers still flanked the Asgardians. A man in front held a torch and every three men behind him continued the pattern. Fire seemed like the last thing they needed at that moment, seeing as the smell of smoke was still fresh in their senses.

However, Dallea knew that most of her men had been away fighting Mares. They needed the light, especially the medical officer. He jumped at every crackle of the thicket. For Yggdrasil's sake, if they had faced Mares anything like the one she had killed that morning … she didn't even know what to say. Why had their enemies decided to supersize themselves? Why now?

When Loki sidled up beside her, she was tempted to spill all of her worries onto him. Yet his expression showed amicable indifference. It was hard to tell if he was scared or anything at all. She bit her tongue. He didn't speak. Was it because the rest of the Vanir men avoided her like the plague? His pity wasn't comforting.

Though the piece of bread that he offered was welcomed. Flitting her eyes up only briefly, she whispered a thank you.

"How much farther, do you think?" Gingerly, he prompted Dallea to look up from the ground. When she did, he hoped regret wouldn't be in her eyes.

"Not far," said she. Formalities in every syllable, it was obvious the longer she replayed what just happened the more she wished she had done it in a safer way. "We're taking a shortcut around the swamp lands."

"And what happens to you after you get back?"

"Nothing."

He gave her a look, then, and she wished he'd stop arching his eyebrow like that. Just looking at how placid he was while waiting for the truth made her want to ebb away.

"I don't know"

"You aren't ever supposed to take that helmet off."

"No." Her voice broke.

Silence once again surrounded them, but Dallea suspected she was more bothered than he was. He didn't have to deal with liability that smothered her like the fabrics in her hood. Initially, they were put in place to provide comfort, but now their only purpose was suffocation.

"You know," Loki said, stepping over a tree root. His tone was thoughtful. "We already have a woman warrior in Asgard."

Dallea laughed. She couldn't help it. An echo of the noise reached her even after she had settled down. By the Norns, that forest was deceased. Eventually, she looked back at Loki, and humiliation sent her eyes right back to the dirt. He seemed bewildered and expectant for an explanation.

"I can't leave," Dallea shrugged, flustered at the mere suggestion.

"Why not?" he asked. Holding her breath, she cursed herself a million times. She didn't want to fight with him, but he had to understand that just because she did … whatever she had done, didn't mean she was a child again.

"This is my home," Dallea said to the ground. For good measure, she repeated: "I can't leave."

"You should," Loki murmured. Snapping her attention to him, Dallea breathed in quickly. His offhand dismissal of everything she had worked so hard on stung. "Sif won't be asleep forever."

Touching her hair gingerly, Dallea made sure her ears were completely covered. Loki noticed her withdrawal.

"You don't have to," Loki said, clicking his tongue while trying to thinking of the right words to say. "I'm simply asking: what else could you do here that you can't do in Asgard?"

That caught Dallea off guard. Scrambling to come up with a proper response, she had to look away from his face again. His eyes filled her with hopes she didn't have the resources for; until right at that moment at least. She didn't need those dreams; she had everything she wanted in Vanaheim.

"It's a generous offer, but no one wants me there," Dallea reasoned.

"Except me," Loki said easily. His words were holding more weight than Dallea could carry at that moment, and so he pressed even more. "And my mother would love to see you again."

"Frigga?" Dallea smiled fondly. "How is she?"

"Fine," Loki responded, offering Dallea another piece of bread. "You should go and see for yourself."

Her eyes were smiling even if her mouth puckered in disapproval. She knew precisely what he was doing, and she hated how it was working. For years Asgard was a distant place, but the longer she stood amongst Asgardians, the more tangible the idea of returning seemed to be.

"Asgard has changed quite a bit," Loki mused. "It's been … what? A few hundred years since you were there last?"

Dallea smiled and looked ahead, the murmuring of other conversations making this moment even more real. Complacent, she squinted her eyes and adjusted her scabbard.

"Do those golden apples still bloom at this time of year?" she asked. Loki flashed her a wolfish grin that sent the elf into a fit of giggles. Those golden apples were hidden from them as children, which made the challenge of obtaining them even more thrilling.

"Of course."

The noise of her laughter turned a few heads. Dallea subconsciously rolled her shoulders back and touched her ears. Teeth running over her bottom lip callously, the elf sensed her yearning for something else grow.

"I'll see what I can do."

Six words were all it took for a champion's smile to possess Prince Loki's indifferent expression. Six words were all it took for Dallea to allow herself the pleasure of dreaming again.

* * *

Sif didn't wake throughout the night, and the healers of Vanaheim were panicking. Her pulse was there, as was her breath, but her eyes refused to open. It took only four hours of pacing and shouting for Thor to finally lose every drop of his patience and demand they take her outside so Heimdall could take them all home. Where proper healers who knew what they were doing worked, as Thor so calmly phrased it.

Waiting for Sif to be carried outside, Thor found his head only so his younger brother would listen to him. He knew how Loki despised when he shouted in his face, so when he spoke he called on the might of the Norns to keep his voice low.

"I hate to say this, brother, but we really don't need her," Thor said. Since her couldn't have been Sif, Loki rolled his eyes at Thor's deserved attack on Dallea. Loki didn't think he would be having this conversation with Thor of all people, but at least he would understand the gist of his words. Sometimes the line between need and want had to be blurred. "We have one woman already. Isn't that enough?"

"Your support is dumbfounding." Loki sighed, folding his hands behind his back but making no move to glance at his brother. Who was he kidding? Thor was a simpleton; he needed not go into such philosophical debates on his choices.

"What would father think?"

Now, this angle impressed him. Loki looked up with a cool demeanor that held no room for debate. "Why would he object to another warrior joining us?"

Loki smirked as Thor looked away, thinking of a suitable retort. When the elder son of Odin looked back, he noticed his brother's gaze was glassy with thought. Thor, although not well versed in the subtleties of nature, knew that look. He chuckled and drew Loki out of his thoughts. His younger brother frowned, annoyed at how smug he looked.

"I know why you want her to come." Loki raised his eyebrows; an invitation for him to explain. "Brother, she is beautiful, but is she truly worth a shag?"

Loki rolled his eyes but Thor wouldn't allow him to slip out of the spotlight so easily. He nudged Loki's shoulder until the younger prince was clenching his jaw in embarrassment. Yet even as irritable as he was, Loki still managed to keep an airy tone in his voice when he said:

"I guess we'll have to see."

Thor threw his head back and laughed. Pleased with himself and the man he squeezed to his side, Thor shook his little brother with gusto. A still unconscious Sif was placed next to them and the warriors three who were conversing a few steps away came forward, saving Loki from further teasing.

"There's hope for you yet!" Thor exclaimed before releasing the raven haired prince and encircling Sif alongside his friends. Bright pink with humiliation, Loki stared at Sif's slumbering face - Heimdall couldn't get him out of there fast enough.

Dallea watched them leave from a balcony not far away. Her gaze was bewitched by the Bifrost. If all went well, perhaps she would be able to ride it as well. With a heavy heart, she knew if anything were to happen beyond this point, she would have to speak with the King and Queen.

Stepping away from the sight of the Aesir's departure, Dallea delved into her own thoughts. Her mind had been made up when she entered the castle of Vanaheim yesterday sans helmet, and was greeted with looks of disgust. It was time for a change.

Turning and entering the hallway, she felt a breeze whisper from the empty corridor heading east. Though the King and Queen of Vanaheim lay straight ahead, Dallea found herself intrigued by the dark hallway. She had been down it before and knew it had no windows. Where was that breeze coming from?

There was a pit in her stomach but she followed her instincts and ventured into the darkness. All the torches had been snuffed out. As if in a trance, she marched forward until she was swallowed from sight.

* * *

There was always room for one more in the ranks of the Vanaheim army, and King Njörd liked to broadcast it. However, the King granted her leave with barely a second thought. When Dallea went to bid farewell to her team whom she had worked with all these years, she felt them breathe a sigh of relief.

Dallea's most regretful goodbye in the armory was to the armour itself. Among a few other things, the request that she leave her armour in Vanaheim was a requirement for the King to grant her resignation. She had hardly any earthly possessions in this realm, and leaving her mask behind felt like she was leaving a dear friend. Only able to bargain and keep her sword, Dallea placed it in her bag and tried not to make eye contact with the other soldiers.

Then there was Queen Skandi, to whom she was indebted to eternally. The one who took her in when King Njörd turned her away. The one who tried to convince her to stay, for her husband to deny her leave. Dallea forced herself not to cry, despite having to wipe the eyes of the Queen too many times to count.

Placing a small hand on Dallea's forehead, the Queen forced herself to take a deep breath of air. She whispered: "May Asgard do what Vanaheim could not."

Feeling her eyes beginning to burn, Dallea closed them. Queen Skandi looked upon her with pride and it made Dallea's heart hurt.

"And may the Norns guide you to happiness. Yggdrasil knows you need it."

The Queen began to shake, and Dallea had to hold her carefully, trying not to think of her departure as a betrayal. Too soon, Dallea had to leave so she wouldn't miss her carriage.

Walking out of the courtyard of the castle felt wrong. She hadn't left those walls without her mask in a very long time, so she tried to open her eyes as wide as she could. One can't see the whole world looking through tiny slits of a mask. Placing one foot on the step of the carriage, Dallea thought better of herself and turned to wave to a small group of handmaidens lead by Queen Skandi.

It hurt, watching them wave her off and not knowing if she would see them again, but they were far away enough to not see the tears on Dallea's face. She climbed into her carriage but kept her eyes on the castle through a decent sized window.

On the dirt road behind her, a few of the handmaiden's had run out onto the middle of the street, laughing and holding hands. A few more leaked onto the path and were calling her name and waving their arms. "Sjáumst! Farewell, Dallea!"

Dallea, curious at the noise, opened the carriage door as it was still moving. Daring to poke her head out slightly to see the commotion, her heart ripped in two seeing Queen Skandi and all of her handmaidens on a trodden path, hollering her name. Grinning and crying at the same time, Dallea waved back to the women. She kept on waving until they became dots on the path and their voices had long since faded.

Sitting back in her carriage, Dallea still smiled, but she refused to wipe her tear-strewn face.

"Sjáumst," Dallea whispered. We will meet again.

* * *

It took Dallea six days to travel across Vanaheim, with frequent stops to allow the horses time to rest. Once she arrived at a bustling structure with healers coming and going in swarms, Dallea tipped her carriage man and grabbed her bags.

Entering the main foyer, a skylight illuminated the golden tiles and sleek walls that hung portraits of famous Vanir Doctors. Not allowed to bring her weapons past that point, Dallea shed her bags and they were placed elsewhere for safe keeping.

Dallea climbed a spiral staircase and passed the second and third levels up to a specialized intensive care unit. Although the fourth floor was a maze of hallways, Dallea found the room she was looking for quickly.

Knocking on the door and waiting for a raspy voice to hail her in, Dallea laced her fingers together and tried not to be bothered by the heavy silence. It smelt of death up there, and when Dallea opened the door, it intensified.

Frail as she looked, the old woman who laid on the only bed in the room was alert when she heard footsteps. "Who are you?"

"It's me, Nanny," Dallea said, grabbing a chair next to the door so she wouldn't have to look at the woman. "It's Dallea."

The result was instantaneous: a grin broke out across the woman's face, and she extended a quavering hand for Dallea to hold. Obliging, Dallea kissed her old nanny's knuckles and pressed her hand to her heart.

"How are you?" Dallea asked.

"Alive," Nanny said in a teasing tone. "For now."

"That's not funny," Dallea said, tilting her head with a stern expression on her face. Although Nanny couldn't see this, she heard the young woman's tone and let out a cackle.

"Says you." Dallea rolled her eyes, but squeezed Nanny's hand tightly while bringing it to rest on her lap. "And you? How has Vanaheim been treating you?"

"Fine," Dallea said.

"It's always fine, never good," Nanny mused. "That's not good."

"It's fine, Nanny," Dallea said.

"I know," Nanny replied, moving her hand to clasp Dallea's upper arm. "You can handle yourself." She gave Dallea a little squeeze and sat up in her bed slightly. "Good Norns! You could break me in half."

Dallea giggled and reclaimed Nanny's hand into her own. "Maybe."

"Tell me, child," Nanny smiled, brightening at the sound of Dallea's laughter. "What have you been getting yourself into?"

After filling the old woman in on everything that she had been doing since the last few months that she had visited, Dallea squeezed her hand. "I think I'll be leaving, Nanny."

"Oh?" Nanny said, cocking her head at the change of tone in Dallea's voice. "To where?"

"Asgard," Dallea whispered, her mouth upturning when Nanny's did. "A few days ago I saw Prince Loki again. He invited me to go back with him."

"How lovely!" the woman exclaimed, her pointed ears, much like Dallea's, twitching as she smiled. "Just like when you were children. Tell me, how did he look? Handsome enough to stir up some old feelings?"

"Nanny!" Dallea scolded with a grin. "We were children, that was nothing."

"You didn't answer me, young lady," Nanny teased, shaking Dallea's hand playfully. Dallea gave a pursed lip smile to the old elf while shaking her head.

"He was very handsome," Dallea finally admitted, and Nanny guffawed. Finding the laughter contagious, Dallea joined in, until Nanny's chest constricted. She began to cough instead.

Her smile vanishing, Dallea stood up and quickly got her nanny a glass of water. She had to guide the old elf's hand to the cup, and help bring it to her lips. After setting the glass on the nightstand, Dallea swallowed a lump in her throat. The old woman's eyes were pale and glassy, shifting from time to time, but completely blind. As a result of her illness, Nanny had lost many things, including her sight and ability to walk. Becoming sick during Dallea's training in Vanaheim, the woman had to fight her battle alone.

"Where's Jania?" Nanny asked suddenly, breaking the quiet before the smell of her dying body overcame both of them. "Have you seen her?"

Dallea looked down at the woman, her face falling even farther. "Nanny, she disowned me."

"What?" Nanny gasped, her head lurching forward in shock. Nodding despite knowing she couldn't be seen, Dallea rubbed her eyes as they began to itch with unshed tears. "Don't worry about your old mother, Dallea. She's a fickle thing. This room stinks, but you're always welcome here."

"Thank you," Dallea said, finding the old woman's hand and holding it tightly.

"I'll talk to her," Nanny promised, but Dallea wasn't very comforted by her words. "She comes in and talks to me from time to time."

"Talks at you, you mean?" Dallea asked, a trace of scorn lingering in her voice. Nanny clicked her tongue, raising her eyebrows.

"Don't be bitter, Dallea. It's not a good colour on you," Nanny stated. Dallea hung her head, her chest tightening.

"I'm sorry," said Dallea. Sometimes she just couldn't help it.

"The only way that I will forgive you is if you leave this dying old woman at once and go to Asgard," Nanny said firmly, releasing Dallea's hand and folding her hands over her chest. The position reminded Dallea of a body being lowered into a casket. "I don't want your legacy to be worrying about me. Consider it my dying wish."

Dallea looks down at her hands, refusing to find humour in Nanny's words. She played with the purple beaded bracelet on her wrist and sat in silence. Nanny reached out once again, and Dallea allowed her to feel the jewelry on her wrist. Running her hands over the round beads, Nanny's face softened.

Sniffling, Dallea cursed herself for not being strong enough to hold back her tears. Nanny didn't need her pathetic crying; she was dying for Yggdrasil's sake! Nanny, however, carefully brought her hand to where she thought Dallea's cheek was. The young elf guided her hand towards her face and leaned into the touch.

"The only regret I have," Nanny whispered soothingly, feeling Dallea clench her teeth together to try and stop the tears. "Is not being able to see you in all your glory on the battlefield. I remember hearing you go on for days about how much you wanted that."

"I just want you to be better," Dallea admitted in a small voice. Maybe if she hadn't left in the first place she could have done something to help.

Hearing the young elf's voice break made the old woman shed a tear of her own. They sat in silence for a second, one that enabled the coldness of reality to settle in on them.

"I love you, Dallea," Nanny stated. "Don't talk to Jania if you don't want to."

Despite the thought of Jania making Dallea want to cry harder, she managed a smile. "I love you, too."

* * *

Standing with all of her belongings in this realm, Dallea came to terms with just how little she owned. Trinkets seemed frivolous when she was traveling to train, but she wished she had something to fiddle with.

Nervous, Dallea wondered how she was to get the attention of the gatekeeper. Yelling was not something she fancied doing while standing in the middle of an open space, especially not to someone she couldn't even see. If Heimdall was anything as she remembered, he would be terrifying on a good day.

Turning her head, she felt eyes on the back of her head. With nobody in sight, Dallea's hand drifted to a knife hidden in the ribbons of her corset. It was tiny but could gut a Mare if need be. Perhaps not a full sized one … oh, Norns. What was she to do if it was a full sized one?

Her questions were never answered. The prickly feeling of being watched amplified to static jumping over her skin. Looking at her bare arms as the hair stood straight, Dallea took a step backward in terror.

A hum. A hum was all it took for her fears to evaporate. Amazed, Dallea craned her neck back as the bifrost descended from the sky and enveloped her. There are no words in the entire universe that could ever describe the colours, the feeling, or the way her body seemed to evaporate then reassemble while within the might of the bifrost. Only that she was in Vanaheim and then in the blink of an eye she was standing on the Bifrost bridge. Beyond the gatekeeper was Asgard in all its glory. It stood proudly in the late afternoon sky, coloured a blood red as swirling clouds decorated the golden palace in divine light.

"Welcome." The single word from the Gatekeeper nearly sent Dallea tumbling to the ground out, overwhelmed.

Not trusting her voice to form the correct words, her lips curled into a smile in response.


	5. House of Cards

_Chapter 5: House of Cards_

* * *

The Gatekeeper stepped down from his place, taking his time to edge closer to where Dallea stood. The upraised platform made him tower everything else in the dome they stood in. Movements slow and deliberate to minimize the shaking of her hands, he spoke:

"You have returned." Striking as his mere presence was, Dallea found his golden eyes the hardest to meet. Instead, she settled to stare at his folded hands, resting on a sword. "One of the Princes of Asgard warned me of this over a week ago."

Emboldened by the need to explain herself, Dallea looked up. "I needed to say goodbye. I hope I have not angered anyone with my late arrival."

"Indeed." After ignoring the second part of her statement, Heimdall nodded his head. With gentleness in his tone so as not to frighten her, he continued: "I have seen you in Vanaheim from time to time."

Coming from a faint stirring in her chest, Dallea felt the need to turn away. Yet she held his searching gaze even when his words struck a chord in her mind.

"Except, that is, on the last day you saw the Princes of Asgard," Heimdall said. Shifting his weapon from hand to hand, his body went rigid. "I sent the Bifrost to them and you watched from a balcony not far away." Dallea flitted her eyes down to his feet, which were set apart. Her heart skipped a beat. "Then, when I looked back, you were nowhere in sight."

The breath that escaped her lips was coarse and didn't resemble air in the slightest. Calmness smothered the spike of fear that was his accusing words. For even though her mind was doubtful, her face was confused.

"I went to speak with the King of Vanaheim about my resignation," Dallea answered. Her eyebrows furrowed. "I left the balcony from where I saw the Bifrost and immediately went to the King and Queen."

"And is the answer to my question as simple as that?" Heimdall asked. His refusal to drop his tensed shoulders spoke of doubt. "Why could I not see you?"

"Well …" Dallea wracked her mind to think of a reason why she was shrouded from the Gatekeeper. It didn't make sense; she had gone directly to the throne room. The memory was as clear as day in her mind. Her eyes lit up as a possible explanation settled on the tip of her tongue. "The Mages of Vanaheim entered the castle around the same time as me. Perhaps they enchanted it from your view?"

Heimdall raised his chin but didn't blink as he watched her. She kept her head up, but pressed her palms together to stop them from shaking. Eyes wide and waiting, Dallea chewed on the inside of her cheek; the way someone would if they were falsely accused of a crime. While he contemplated her words, she hoped this was not to be her renewed impression on such a powerful being. Heimdall was not someone she wanted as an enemy.

"Perhaps," Heimdall said eventually. Dallea voiced her relief through a stoic bob of her head. Sighing felt inappropriate under such an intense gaze. "I will send someone to speak with the Mages if this is the case."

Sensing the conversation was finished, Dallea turned and picked up her few bags. Heimdall climbed back up to his rightful place and froze, his eyes empty, but full of all the stars in the sky. It was a long trek to mainland Asgard, but Dallea welcomed the opportunity to think without interruption.

* * *

The twisting streets would have consumed her had the palace of Asgard's figure not kept her on the right path. Alive with the hums of conversation, Asgard was awake

as ever in the setting sun. She passed townsfolk who looked at her Vanir styled cloak with muted murmurings. Glad she had decided to wear a hood to cover her ears, Dallea could do little more than keep walking.

The closer she drew to the palace the more people she saw, bustling and cleaning up their marketed goods for the day. Aesir people filed into bars and restaurants to while away the rest of their night. People whose hearts were not too tired offered their neighbours assistance, or simply asked about their day. Children wove in and out of the crowd, daring each other to steal a piece of fruit off of distracted vendors.

A girl whose height barely passed Dallea's knee tripped in front of the elf. Seeing the scratches on the child's hands, Dallea felt her heart swell. When the girl whimpered in pain, she sank to her knees to offer an extra pair of hands. Wiping off a few pieces of cobblestone that lodged themselves into the girl's flesh, Dallea was oblivious to the child's wariness. A hooded figure whose face she could not read warranted the urge to yank her hand away. After Dallea noticed the girl's distress she revealed her face in one swift movement.

Smiling to keep the child calm, Dallea was pleased when the Aesir girl giggled. Var liked to say beauty could open one's mind, but Dallea hoped the child wasn't laughing at the way she crinkled her nose.

"Bryn!"

Upon hearing the little girl be beckoned by her mother, Dallea hastily stood to her full height. Not wanting to get involved any further, the elf reached back to flick her hood over her head. A few heads had turned to her direction as Bryn's mother cooed over the girl's wounds. Ready to depart in a heartbeat, Dallea froze after hearing her own name be hollered.

"Dallea?!" An exceptionally drunk Fandral spotted her from inside a bar. Waving his hand so she could see him, Dallea resisted the urge to ignore him. Entering the spacious tavern, she lowered her hood out of respect. However, she made sure to cover her ears with any wisp of hair she could find, blowing a few wisps out of her mouth in the process.

Decorated with horns and heads of exotic animals, the bar was comprised of a deep red wood. That, combined with the setting sun, made the tavern glow like the entire building was made of lava. Dallea took a seat beside Fandral after he pulled out a stool for her.

Alongside feeling awkward among the already drunk throng of people, Dallea was not sure what to say. Surely they expected her to be courteous enough to crack a joke or even begin a conversation, but Dallea's mind drew blank.

"You're just in time!" Volstagg shouted. He was seated a few tables away surrounded by an assortment of children, including Bryn, who was holding her mother's hand near the back. Feeling some attention shift to her, Dallea smiled shyly and waved at a rosy-cheeked Volstagg. "I was just explaining how we defeated the Fire Giant in Vanaheim." Turning his attention back to the children, his voice adopted a magical quality to it. "With the Mighty Thor whisked out of the way, it was only the three of us against this hulking monster ... "

"He's got a gift for twisting the truth," Hogun chuckled into his flask. He was seated across from Fandral and Dallea, arms crossed and drinking his ale without remorse. "I think he calls it 'storytelling'."

"You should have heard him describing the giant," Fandral laughed, winking at the barmaid who placed another beer in front of him. He turned to push it in Dallea's direction and placed a hand on her shoulder. Leaning in for added effect, Fandral dropped his voice a few octaves to imitate his friend. "'It was bigger than the entire palace of Asgard - times two!'"

Dallea smiled, not quite as giddy as the other two men. Perhaps a bit of ale would change her mind.

"'Oh, but that was only its leg!'" Hogun mocked, swinging his arm and wiggling his eyebrows. "'Its teeth were the size of my father. And you can all guess how large he was!'"

waDallea choked on her alcohol while Fandral crowed with laughter. A few tables over, a group of men cheered, their flasks clashing together as an inside joke was shared. Tucked away from the rest of the pulsing tavern, a few lovers held hands, thankful their heads were level despite the other occupants being so elevated. Dallea, too wrapped up in her own world to pay any mind, shuffled her chair closer to the table.

The three of them fell silent when the children gasped in unison. Voice barely a whisper, Volstagg's hand was extended to reach out and ensnare the children further.

"And just as we thought the giant was going to catch us …"

Every person in earshot held their breath out of worry. The men glanced over, ears straining to hear what he had to say. Perhaps later they would retell this riveting tale to someone else. Mothers and fathers mirrored their children's excitement. What next? Bryn's eyes reflected the light of the blazing hearth. Even the loudest chatter of in the bar faded to dull chuckles..

"Prince Thor of Asgard erupted from the brush, legendary hammer in hand. He struck the giant square in the jaw!" Volstagg imitated giving himself an uppercut then squealed like a dying pig. The reaction was instantaneous; all the kids chortled and fidgeted at the image of Thor bringing down the huge monster. "It hit the ground with a crash that shook the entire realm. The beast was finished!"

Loud conversation once again filled the tavern and Dallea sipped the last of her beer, a grin on her face. She turned to Fandral, who shook his head. Smoothing out his moustache with his thumb and forefinger, his aloofness did not go undetected.

"Of course he would conveniently forget to mention how he ran away like a spooked Bilgesnipe," Fandral scoffed. He and Hogun continued to point out flaws in Volstagg's storytelling while Dallea stared at the bottom of her cup. Aesir beer was some of the strongest, bested only by that of the dwarves. However, as much as she would love to stay seated and listen for the rest of the night, she would rather not risk getting drunk and losing her bags.

Unsure whether he would become uncomfortable if she tapped his shoulder, Dallea instead beckoned Fandral's attention through speaking his name. As sleepy as his half opened eyes were, he still tried his hardest to give her his attention. For that, she was grateful.

"How is Sif?" she asked, shaking her head when a barmaid tried to pour more beer into her flask.

"Sif? Much better," Fandral said. He swayed a little where he sat but Dallea didn't doubt his words. "She woke when we returned to Asgard. I think she may still be in the Healing Ward for now, but she is definitely better."

Healing Ward? If Dallea remembered correctly, it was on the easternmost part of the palace of Asgard. Yet her memory was hazy.

"Where might I find the Healing Ward?" she asked.

"West," Hogun said. He thanked the barmaid who topped him off. "If you want to go straight there, keep heading west towards the Queen's garden. You can't miss the door."

West, right. Dallea nodded, standing up. She sifted through her pockets for some money she could leave on the table. "Thank you, for everything."

"We're just glad you're here so we can stop listening to Loki's worrying," Fandral snorted. He noticed her rifling and shook his head. "We'll cover your bill as long as you promise to go and see the royal Prince of Whining." Making a face after swallowing his beer, he jerked his cup towards Hogun. "Did they change our order? This doesn't taste like Aes Beer…"

Hogun shrugged and tipped back another mouthful. Dallea grabbed her bags, wishing she had money to set on the table. She would have to live with their generosity. Waving goodbye to Volstagg, the red-haired man winked instead of interrupting another one of his stories.

The sun had already set when Dallea re-entered the street. The sky was never truly dark, though, and the colours weaving through the stars gave the sparsely populated street a companionable quality. Destination in mind, Dallea pulled her hood over her head and moved west.

* * *

Dallea found no reason to compare Queen Frigga's garden to Queen Skandi's, since they were both beautiful in their own respectful ways. However, instead of the mystery that hung like morning dew on each flower bud, the Asgardian garden was open even if no one was there to see. She recognized a few of the flowers, but the vast majority were not only exotic, but bizarre as well.

Unable to control herself, Dallea gingerly touched the petal of a drooping blossom. Upon discovering it was wet with nectar, the elf drew back her hand sharply. Sighing, the aroma of the garden threatened to pull her in. She would love to meet the gardeners.

The door to the healing ward was lined with moon flowers and roses both. Spreading across the walls like they had a mind of their own, vines interrupted the golden palace with life as green as could be. Fixing her grip on her bags, Dallea stepped up to the doors and wondered if she should knock.

Deciding to be safe, the elf rapped her knuckles against the brass entrance. Patient, she waited a minute, then two. The lack of reply encouraged her to pull on the handle and hope it wasn't locked. Though large in size, the hinges of the door only whispered a squeal of protest. Dallea entered the hospital ward and made sure to close the exit behind her.

As far as hospitals went, this one was not very well lit. She remembered this odd detail from her time in Asgard, but it did not stop her straining eyes from trembling in protest. The patterns on the walls were in Dwarvish, which struck odd to Dallea. She never took the dwarves for healers, but she knew little to nothing about the craft.

Continuing down the hall to another set of doors, Dallea had to pass at least six different openings. Thankfully, the actual hospital wing where the patients were kept was labeled. She opened that door a fraction, but froze when the heat of an argument hit her ears.

"... lucky that I don't have time." Not recognizing the voice, Dallea was tempted to close the door and wait until the spat was settled. Yet she stiffened her limbs.

There was a pause, and a scuffling sound of movement that made Dallea strain her ears.

"If you were to, you would have to go through my supervisor first," a second woman said. Calm as she sounded, fear was obviously present in her voice. "I don't do anything without direct commands from my supervisors."

"Well, maybe it's time that both you and your supervisor receive a thorough investigation," the first woman suggested, her tone scathing. "I believe you all see guidelines as heavy-handed suggestions. But I won't sit by and let you ruin someone else's life."

Silence was the reply. Swallowing hard, Dallea's eyes flit from the ground to the ceiling. What was happening? A response came in the form of startlingly close footsteps.

Dallea snapped her head back, standing tall and rigid. She was the epitome of all things suspicious in that moment, and coming face to face with one of the women did nothing to erase the guilt off her expression.

The woman jumped after noticing the hooded person in front of her. Holding a hand over her heart, the woman released a huff of air and gave the hooded stranger a once-over. They were definitely not someone she had ever seen around Asgard before, so she offered a courteous nod.

Dallea mirrored the movements of the woman, keeping her lips pursed in worry. Fortunately, the red-haired woman did not scorn her for eavesdropping, nor did she ask who she was. Instead, the woman swept past her and paid her no more attention.

Shoulders wilting in relief, Dallea entered the hospital wing and spotted Sif straight away. Regrettably, the other woman was leaning over her unconscious body, placing her fingers on the warrior's neck to check her pulse. The elf stopped in her tracks once more.

Judging by the wrapped blue garments she wore and her mere presence in a hospital ward, Dallea guessed the woman was some kind of doctor. What struck her, however, were the undeniable tears she was swiping from her face. Frozen, Dallea watched the woman massage her temples, oblivious to other person in the room.

Thinking through her actions seemed ridiculous in such a situation, so Dallea didn't think twice before dropping her bags at the entrance and approaching the cot Sif lay on. With an embarrassment that Dallea could taste, the doctor covered her mouth after noticing someone else was present.

"Norns," the doctor croaked, her voice failing while trying to take a step away from a situation she didn't want any part of. "Sorry, you weren't … I wasn't …"

Recognizing that she couldn't form a proper sentence, she made a move to turn away. Instantly recognizing the woman's voice as the one who was being threatened, Dallea was conflicted for only a moment before making up her mind.

"No, no, it's alright," Dallea assured. One hand removing her hood while the other reached out to touch the woman's shoulder, Dallea tried to sound positive enough for the woman to stop turning away. "Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

"I'm the Healer," the woman answered shortly. Not grasping the meaning of her words, Dallea nodded.

"I know," Dallea said. "I'm not from here, but I know that much."

"No, I mean I'm the one who is supposed to be asking you if you need anything," the woman explained. Jerking her head back, Dallea felt humiliation rush into her throat. Of course, how could she have been so ridiculous? Lowering her hands and intertwining them over her waist, Dallea discovered she didn't know how to refute such a statement.

"I-I know," Dallea murmured, her shoulders raising in an attempt to make herself look smaller. "It's just, I'm not the one who's crying." Cringing at her words, Dallea covered her mouth then raised her hands defensively. "I didn't mean that. You are crying, but it's not … it's not bad, I just thought ... "

Deciding to cover her mouth again to stop any other stupid things from slipping out, Dallea cast her eyes to the ground and kept them there.

"I know what you mean, it's just you weren't supposed to see this," the Healer explained while gesturing to her red face, not as insulted by Dallea as said elf thought she was. "It's my fault, don't worry about it. I was just finishing up with your friend."

"She's not my friend," Dallea said. Horrified, she pinched the bridge of her nose then tried again. "She is! I meant she is. She's an old friend. We just haven't seen each other in a long time."

Ignoring the slight mix up, the Healer never missed a beat of the conversation: "I'm sure she will appreciate your visit. Can a take a name for her? Where do you hail from?" The Healer changed what looked like a piece of cloth on Sif's forehead, shaking it out and retrieving another from a nearby drawer.

Red in the cheeks from the Healer's offhand comment, Dallea raised her eyebrows and shrugged. Absently, the elf combed her hair over her ears in a hope the Healer wouldn't notice them. "Vanaheim."

"Hm, really?" the Healer asked, bending over to adjust the piece of cloth that was beginning to glow in the dim room. "Near where, the west?"

Dallea knew the woman was not truly interested, but she appreciated the politeness she upheld. However, Dallea could not think of an area in Vanaheim that would not arouse suspicion. The castle of Vanaheim was located near the east and was where she spent most of her days, but with talk of Vanaheim her mind drifted to Queen Skandi.

"North-east of the Ulfr sea, in a dockside city called Melrakki," That was the Queen's favourite spot to travel in the summertime.

Straightening, the Healer flashed her a brilliant smile. "Me as well."

"Really?" Dallea asked, her own mouth quirking upwards. However, her stomach clenched. How was she supposed to get away with lying now?

"Yes!" Affirming her answer with a quick nod of her head, the Healer met Dallea's eyes for the first time. "I haven't been in years. Tell me; do the men still take that month-long journey in the spring?"

"Yes," Dallea answered, thanking the Norns that Queen Skandi had rehashed the details of her trip that year. "Though they caught less than they have in years."

Clicking her tongue, the woman pursed her lips. "My extended apologies." Dallea nodded, touching her hair to certify that it was covering properly. "That's so odd; that we would meet here and not there."

"Yes," Dallea responded quickly. "Yes, very odd. Odd and strange …"

The Healer rubbed her hands together thoughtfully. The clothes Dallea wore were certainly Vanir, but there was no doubt that she was lying through her teeth. Eyes narrowing and then crinkling in a smile when she understood why Dallea kept on fighting with her hair, the Healer cleared her throat to regain her attention.

"What did you say your name was?" the Healer asked.

"Well, I-I didn't say," the elf shrugged, then smiled. "My name is Dallea."

"They call me Eir," the woman said. "It was nice to meet you, Dallea. If you'll excuse me, I must go … clean myself up."

"Okay," Dallea whispered, looking for some kind of chair sit on beside Sif's cot. Something occurred to her. The only other occupants of the hospital were asleep, so she dared to rasp across to Eir's departing back: "I won't tell a soul."

Eir's steps slowed before stopping altogether. Turning, her expression was questioning. Unaware as to why she looked so confused, Dallea mustered what she hoped to be a reassuring smile.

Picking at her sleeve, Eir nodded. "Thank you."

Despite Eir disappearing from sight, Dallea mirrored the Healer's actions while smoothing out her dress. That hadn't went as catastrophically as she anticipated. Finally, she turned her attention to Sif.

With black hair and the lack of youthful roundness in her cheeks, Sif looked different. How simple of a statement, yet how it nagged at Dallea the longer she looked at her sleeping form. A small candle cast shadows on the cot, and it was the only one in the room which had a flame. This made seeing entire room more difficult, but Dallea's attention was trapped by the sleeping woman in front of her.

"Did you …" Dallea muttered to Sif's sleeping form. Licking her lips and feeling incredibly foolish, she managed to choke out: "Did you even remember me? Or did Volstagg have to re-explain who I was?"

How her voice faded so quickly in the healing ward, reminding her that nothing she said mattered. The same emotion resonated in her chest. "I'll admit there were days I forced myself to remember, but I just hoped that you would too."

Her hands fidgeted in her lap, thankful and saddened knowing that Sif would never be able to hear her. Inclining her head when she heard movement beyond the candle's ray of light, Dallea paused until she was satisfied no one was listening.

"I feel bad not realizing straight away that you were missing," Dallea admitted, her voice gaining strength, but still quiet in volume. "You saved me from that fire and I couldn't return the favour."

Sif looked so peaceful, sleeping there. Dallea didn't think she had ever seen such serenity on that woman's face. Yet she looked so wildly out of place in a hospital, adorned in clothes that resembled the rags Nanny wore.

"Remember when you promised to teach me how to fight?" Dallea recalled, smiling at the memory of her younger self trying to hold a sword properly. "You were a terrible teacher. You wanted to throw me into battle when I didn't even know what a scabbard was."

Touching Sif's arm gingerly, Dallea wished she could bottle up the courage she felt in that moment and say those words when they could be heard. "I never gave up on it, not any of it. And I wish I was better so I could show you how much your belief in me meant."

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Dallea squeezed Sif's arm ever so slightly. "Because it was one thing to want to fight, but it was a whole other world to see it happen."

Leaning back in her seat, she didn't know how else to explain the gratitude and penance she felt.

"So ... thank you."

"Dallea?"

Eir nearly frightened the elf to death when she crept up on the other side of the cot. Dallea went as white as a ghost upon realizing that someone had been listening. Terror made it hard to breathe in that moment.

"Sorry to frighten you," Eir said, her grass green eyes dilated at how Dallea's chest refused to expand. "I just forgot to … are you alright?"

Staring at Eir was the only thing she could do. Until, that is, she stood up and prepared herself to leave. Baffled at Dallea's rigid posture and large strides as she moved away from the cot, Eir's hung her hands uselessly, unsure what to say. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

Dallea certainly could. Eir's words were undeterred by the elf's attempts to shut off her ears. The ringing she heard was persistent but didn't drown out her embarrassment. She could only walk away from that. Away to her bags and then to the door.

That is, until someone opened the door and nearly hit her with it.

Yelping, Dallea took a few hasty steps backward. She dropped a bag and froze in horror at all the noise she had just made. A hand reached out and grabbed the door to stop it from opening any farther. Attached to that hand was a startled Prince Loki, who stepped into sight to see who he nearly hit.

"Oh," Loki blinked. While Dallea looked alarmed upon recognizing him, his mouth cracked into an apprehensive smile. "They said you might be here."

'They' most likely being the Warrior's Three, Dallea refused to spare a thought to his words. Her anxiety spiked to immeasurable amounts. With Eir behind her, most likely scorning and judging her for what she had just witnessed, and Prince Loki in front of her, no doubt silently chiding her clumsiness, she found it difficult stay standing.

Eir busied herself with Sif, but dared to glance over at Dallea a few times to make sure she didn't need any medical assistance. How odd was she? Eir shook her head only slightly, glad she could slip away from the scenario about to unfold.

Waiting until Eir was gone to speak again, Loki didn't know how to receive the fright she exuded. Raising his chin to gesture to Sif beyond her, Loki forced his voice to remain light. "She's been awake since."

Dallea omitted a sound that sounded as if she was trying to say the word 'yes', but with an extra click of her tongue. Squinting, Loki wasn't sure if she was too nervous to speak or was speaking elvish, which could also be a product of her unease. Dallea pursed her lips, aghast that she had to be such a wreck. The only thing she could come up with to save herself was to kneel into a deep curtsy. So she did, and the excuse to look away from him and wince at herself was refreshing.

Loki didn't mean to laugh, but a small exclamation of his mirth slipped out anyway. He wasn't laughing at her; he was pleased with the fact his very presence made her trip over herself. In a strange way, it was flattering. He cocked his head and gestured to her bowing form. "You don't need to do that."

Immediately she was standing straight again, pressing her shoulders into her neck to become smaller. Dallea didn't know if he was ignoring her fumbling or if he was laughing at her, but asking for clarification was a terrifying thought.

For a moment, he just looked. There wasn't much to see except for her face, but he seemed to look beyond what was right in front of him. His eye twitched, too caught in his thoughts to realize he had begun to scowl. Truth be told, it took only a few days for him to doubt she would stick to her word. However, he greeted the opportunity to clear his mind from the initial shock of seeing her again; now he could calculate exactly how he wanted them to proceed.

Dallea cleared her throat and touched her hair, hoping to Yggdrasil that he wasn't looking at her ears. That was all Loki needed to return from his trance. He pointed at her bags. "Is this all you have?"

"Yes," she answered. Though she heard confusion in his voice. Being scrutinized again made the instinct to hide overpower common sense; it reasoned he was asking a mere question.

"I'll call a servant to take them," he said. "My mother was excited to hear of your return, and she had a room cleaned for you … if you did return."

"That's …" So kind of you both, Dallea wanted to say. However, Dallea felt awful that they had given her so much already. It took years to earn a room for herself in Vanaheim. "That's not necessary, really."

"Then where else are you to stay?" Loki asked shortly, words having a jagged edge to them. Could she not just accept this simple gesture? When she responded, her lack of gumption set him back.

"I didn't mean to sound ungrateful." Not wanting to rile him up, Dallea placed her bags on the ground beside the one that had fallen. Sudden exhaustion hit the prince. She always sounded so close to tears. Such a tune would get old very fast.

"Walk with me," he said, leaving no room for discussion. Instead of nodding, Dallea decided it was best to keep her eyes to the ground and let him guide her.

He held the door of the hospital wing open for her, as well as the one that separated the Healing Ward from the rest of the castle. Loki stopped to speak with a guard who just so happened to be walking by at that moment. Abandoning the need to keep her head down, Dallea craned her neck to try and see everything at once. Nostalgia was a bitter emotion, but at least it replaced embarrassment.

There was nothing mesmerizing about the dull hallway they walked down after Loki was done speaking with the guard, but Dallea was fascinated by everything. In fact, it was a hassle to regain her attention from the sky-high pillars adorned with intricate symbols.

"It's a good thing you have such a taste for architecture," Loki shrugged. "Otherwise, I doubt you would waste your time coming back."

All of her attention was focused on him in the next moment, surprise causing her mouth to fall open. "They told you I said that?"

"Oh yes," he laughed, enjoying her groan of disgust more than he should have. "Your lying ability hasn't improved in the slightest."

The best part about the smile they shared was that neither of them had only one memory to recall fondly.

Wanting to smother her more thickly with nostalgia, he lead her up a flight of stairs to double doors that the elf recognized in an instant. A grin erupted on her face as he lead the way into the most beautiful library Dallea had ever seen. Like he had cast a spell on her, she reacted exactly the way he had anticipated; excited yet wistful. Such a place was not easy to forget, with its looming towers and various reading rooms making it massive in size.

As a bonus, she was immediately drawn to the nearest bookshelf, squinting to see the wood clearly in the dim lamplight. Running her fingers over the smooth surface and feeling the etched letters she had been searching for, Dallea spoke:

"For Yggdrasil's sake, how are our names still here?" It did seem unlikely that the awkward carving of two children would still be as prominent after all this time, but she didn't dwell on the logic of it. Instead she observed the library from this new angle. It was still a massive room, but a little less now that she was much taller.

"That's nothing," Loki said, walking backwards so she could see his enticing smile. Reaching up to grab a book he seemed to know the place of off by heart, Loki beckoned her closer. By the time she was at his side, he had flipped to the page he wanted to show her.

"Oh no," Dallea exclaimed, failing to stop a giggle from passing her lips. On the page was a most unflattering picture of a man licking a horse. Looking up at an also smiling Prince Loki, Dallea pointed at the picture. "I drew that, didn't I? Yggdrasil, who even was that man?"

"It was our riding instructor," Loki answered, handing her the book so she could see it more clearly. "You hated him."

Dallea, too distracted by the ridiculousness of her 'artwork', didn't notice Loki had slipped away to retrieve something else.

"I can't believe I drew this over top of the words!" Bringing it closer to her face, her expression lit up with excitement. "Oh, and look! I wrote my name beside it! My life of crime began at a very early age."

"It's not as if you didn't memorize that old thing," Loki said, but from the opposite direction of where Dallea thought he stood. Jumping out of her skin and pressing the book to her chest, she squeezed her eyes shut to expel the swelling humiliation. Upon opening them, she noticed Loki was playing with something in his palm. "You used to love philosophy."

"Yeah," Dallea whispered, entranced at the way he fiddled with the small sphere with such precision. He managed to let it roll down his fingers. Then, he tossed it back to his palm yet it never fell. "And you like …alchemy."

"Used to," Loki corrected. "I found something else."

His palm finally stilled. The black sphere sat in the centre, quivering slightly. Dallea watched it carefully, and jumped when it broke in two. Out of the seed came one green strand, growing longer with every passing second. It spiraled as it grew. It adopted three tiny buds that nestled at the tallest point. Each bud erupted into blossoming flowers that were red and orange in colour.

After the flower had shuddered to a halt, Dallea looked up at Loki, awed. "Magic."

"Yes," he said, glad he could recreate the wonderment she had expressed when they were in Vanaheim. It was worth it to see someone light up in the wake of his abilities. To add to her giddiness, he carefully picked up the flower and offered it to her. Though they were standing so close he barely had to move his hand.

Her mouth opened then shut, unsure if he really wanted her to take it or not. After he nodded, she gingerly plucked it from his hand and twirled it in her own fingers. Remembering what a bland seed had created such a beautiful blossom rendered her speechless. Perhaps not in the way Loki had wanted. He was obviously extremely talented in wielding magic, but she doubted his skills ended in party tricks.

Not liking her prolonged silence, Loki hovered his hand on her shoulder. "Come along."

He lead her to the balcony. Being away from the coziness of the library was certainly a change in scenery, but Dallea didn't know if it was for the better. The longer she stared at the flower, the more the colours resembled the flames of the forest where she had thrown away everything she had. A feeling settled in her stomach when she looked at that flower, and it was no longer awe.

Loki wasn't sure how to take her sudden reproach, but he listened to her when she began to speak. "You must practice alot to become this good. Magic, I mean."

"I do." Still not liking the tone of voice she used, he began to think of any way to backtrack what he had done wrong. "It's a skill to work on, very much like archery, or even sword fighting."

Dallea looked away from the flower to see the expression on his face. Why was he always so difficult to read? "I suppose to be considered 'good' at anything you must put in a lot of time."

Eye twitching, Loki had to admit his surprise. Out of all people, he expected Dallea to be the last person he would have a backhanded conversation with. Their faces said something that didn't match their level words. Had she discovered why he had brought her here? Was she angry?

Dallea couldn't figure out why he was being so kind to her. Whatever the reason, it made her wary. If he expected her to begin spilling the secrets of Vanaheim, she would be happy to let him know that she knew nothing that he didn't. She looked back at the flower. The fire giant had also been red and orange in colour.

Resting his elbow on the balcony railing, Loki was close enough to almost detect her rapidly beating heart. He decided to test just how far she would play along with the pseudo composure they were displaying.

"The staff that you wielded in Vanaheim," he said. His tone resembled that of an interrogator, all while staying blissfully sweet. "You should tell me about it."

"It was a gift from the Mages of Vanaheim. It was made to ward off Mares and is made out of enchanted wood."

"Did you bring it here?"

"No, I was not allowed to bring any of my armour."

"What a shame." He sounded genuine. "Such an object would be useful in times like these."

Dallea couldn't look away from his face. She was close enough to see the glint in his eye. Since it was so familiar, Dallea was able to keep herself from doing anything but walk along the fine line he had created.

"Would you happen to know what kind of magic it was imbued with?" Loki asked.

"No, they never told me," Dallea answered, then added for good measure: "Sorry."

As much as he hated this sour turn of events, he couldn't help but be delighted as well. The plan he had made included only needing to swoon her for a day or two before she would be willing to slip into his bedroom. Therefore, he reasoned that it didn't matter if they got along that well. Yet the bet that he had made Thor about how quickly he could get Dallea to sleep with him slipped his mind in that moment. For all he took her for, he never expected such defensiveness.

When he leaned away, Dallea didn't know whether to infer a surrender or a regrouping of thoughts. He smirked at her resumed fumbling. He had drawn out something from her, and no amount of blushing could make him forget.

"So tell me," Loki said casually, ignoring what had just transpired. "How did you manage to convince Njörd to accept you into his ranks? That must be quite a tale…"

Ever since he was a child, the nickname 'Silver Tongue' stuck to Loki like glue. Dallea knew this; but that didn't stop her from growing leery at how he manipulated the conversation so she didn't have time to be indignant.

"It's a long story," Dallea said instead of humouring him. Hoping he would take the hint wasn't enough. Praying that he would actually listen filled her mind.

"And you must be tired," Loki finished, standing up straight and nodding along to her words. On the contrary, her mind was alive and whirring, desperately trying to make sense of the man in front of her. "I'll have someone come and take you to your room." Giving her a wink, he explained without her having to ask: "I'm supposed to be meeting with my father and Thor. I'm sure they'll appreciate my presence, albeit late."

She couldn't find the words to explain her thoughts on what he just said. Fortunately, although much to her dismay, he seemed to glean her thoughts just from a glance her way. He gestured for her to begin walking towards the exit.

"You haven't even been here a day and are already scolding me?" Loki teased. Folding her hands, she wondered if he could hold up an entire conversation without her uttering a single word. It was unnerving; the way he acted as if now he knew her so well that he could speak for her.

Or perhaps she was simply making things up and was being disrespectful. Horrified, Dallea came upon this conclusion too late. Prince Loki had already retreated into his thoughts, blankly staring ahead until he opened the door for her. Yet even the hollow smile he offered spoke of his absence. She wondered if he would hear if she spoke.

Such thoughts would have to wait, it seemed, since Loki gave her no time to open her mouth, much less speak. A servant ready to escort her to her 'room' was beckoned in a heartbeat. The sheer amount of guards and servants that seemed to haunt the Asgardian palace was comical. Despite the courteous nod she gave the servant, Dallea felt uneasy with an unsaid apology she felt she needed to express.

"Rest well," Loki muttered after she had already moved to follow the servant. Dallea turned to echo his words but something stopped her.

"Good night," she said instead. Maybe her tone of voice would act as some kind of condolence for her behavior. The way he smirked as a reply made her want to retract her words. It was a good thing he was already walking away so he couldn't catch her scowl.


	6. More Sinned Against than Sinning

_Chapter 6:_ _More Sinned Against than Sinning_

* * *

The air was thick with uncertainty. There was no one in sight and no tree stirred with enough force to attract attention. Yet all torches down the hall expanded, as if they had been fed. The _whoosh_ of an intruder could barely be heard above the crackling flames. When the torches had withered to their original girth, the noise was long gone.

A slight breeze floated through the castle of Asgard, unhindered until it came across a gust blowing in the opposite direction. Compact yet invisible, the gust forced the breeze to break under its persistence. An even louder _whoosh_ broke the silence of night as the gust rounded a corner.

Nothing guided it except a grudge it was more than willing to haul throughout the halls, tugging it around corners and checking every crevice. On and on it searched. Relentless only after the palace guards had disappeared from sight. Then, it burst forward once more, gliding past a door left recently ajar. A voice echoed through it, and it said a word that sent it reeling: _king_

"Yes, my king."

Turning slowly, the gust pressed itself against the door, listening by simply existing.

"Come to think of it, tell Xarus I'll be bringing a small party of my own."

"Yes, my king."

A man of no interest walking out of the room, pausing to look around. The gust, hovering over the door like an extra layer of paint, waited for the man to shake off his paranoia and make a move to shut the door.

Leaping to action, the gust slithered through the opening just as it was sealed. The room was well lit and decorated with the best resources in the kingdom: ancient tomes, maps of distant lands, and instruments of knowledge. Most important of all, an old man stood in the center of the room, touching his whitened beard and pouring over something on the desk in front of him.

The gust, a blurry shade against the backdrop of the silver study, circled in on itself, relishing in how exhausted the old man looked.

Impatience consuming any semblance of common sense, the gust lunged forward, aiming for the exposed neck of the man. Pages turned and loose papers scattered at the sudden movement, alerting the man before the gust could get close.

King Odin, snapped out of his reverie by something he could never have seen coming, raised his hand to halt his attacker. The spell he breathed out was effective enough to send the gust careening into the desk. Successfully splitting the piece of furniture into two splintered parts, Odin searched with one good eye for his assailant.

Before it fully recovered, the gust shot up, aiming for any exposed flesh that the King had. This time, he got a bit closer. But this time, Odin was prepared.

Staff in hand, Odin redirected the gust to a bookshelf and made it collapse on impact. Books fell to the floor in heaps, and without hesitation, Odin set them aflame with another well directed spell. The King set his staff down with a grand _thud_ , watching the bonfire grow, ready to contain it when necessary.

The gust could feel itself being yanked apart as the greedy flames tried to suck the oxygen out of his form. Panic overcame his anger, and instead of aiming for Odin's form, the gust shot straight out of the pile of flaming books and screamed towards the doorway. A few sparks still clung to him, allowing Odin to finally see the shape of the attacker; a formless cloud.

Despite having no shape, Odin could feel emotions radiating off of the gust as if it was radioactive with hatred and embarrassment. Overcome with such an odd sensation of _feeling_ something else's emotions, Odin hesitated. His resolve wavered for only a moment as the back of his mind tried to force recognition into his train of thought.

The gust spun through the hall, secrecy the last thing on its mind as Odin alerted the guards of an intruder. As idiotic as charging through the palace of Asgard seemed in retrospect, the gust put its life on the bet that it was strong enough to charge through whatever stood in its path. Yet when it came across any set of guards, it ducked into the nearest hiding place.

 _Cowardice_. The label almost deteriorated the gust into sheer rage. As painful as it was, the heat of failure goaded the gust to accomplish something. If the king was unavailable, the next best thing was his queen.

Yet with the footsteps coming from every angle, the gust doubted it would get that far. Going down the very short list of what would make this failed quest worth his time, inspiration struck when he heard a guard shout an order:

"Secure the weapons vault!"

Whipping itself around to hover a few feet behind those that received that command, it used the security of darkness to its advantage. The gust had to physically control its urge to barrel through the few guards leading him to the vault. It reasoned that it had no idea where the vault was. It needed them, as nauseating as that reality was.

Luckily, the gust saw its opportunity when the guards spun and positioned themselves to defend. The door at their backs must be the weapons vault, so it was able to rocket through them without remorse.

The gust, as the Norns knew, was not a gust at all. More of a whisper of something that used to be whole. Something that used to be able to charge through people and crush them, instead of blowing them backwards as he did then.

He kept spinning his almost nonexistence life form until the doors to the weapons vault were destroyed and in his wake. Stilling to survey vault, his attention was drawn to a large weapon at the end of the room with a grand display of its own.

Never having the privilege to acquaint the Tesseract aside from that unseemly meeting, the sight of it struck a chord of distress in the gust. He inched forward, floating a few feet above the floor yet still activating a defense system he hadn't been aware of.

The wall behind the Tesseract began to fold in on itself. Behind it was a bright light, with enough strength to send the gust reeling. A large metal form materialized out of the light and stood in the room, prepared to do its duty and defend.

The metal beast's sheer size and intimidating presence sent the gust into a frenzy; there was a time where the sight of this creature would have made him laugh. But as the beast opened its face and released a beam of powerful magic directed at the gust, he knew such a scenario was no laughing matter.

Doing the only thing he seemed able to do, the gust dodged the blast of magic and charged towards the metal beast. When the beast tried to swipe him away, the gust was slowed but not stopped.

After the cloudy existence of the gust disappeared inside of the Destroyer, the room stiffened, waiting for what came next: a hiccup of silence. Then, the Destroyer slumped over, its nearly impenetrable skin bubbling. As if possessed, the metal beast whipped itself back, trembling and unable to expel the demon that held it captive.

While the unimaginable transpired within the Destroyer, Odin was being directed in the direction of the weapons vault. Loud clashes could be heard far away enough to rouse the king's attention. Flanking him were sets of guards, swords out and steady. Though how much damage they could actually inflict was in question as the image of a translucent beast imprinted itself in Odin's mind.

The king, once close enough to the room that he could see what was inside, slowed to a halt. Like a rock in the middle of the sea, the guards simply maneuvered around their king and kept on rushing forwards. Yet they hesitated when they digested the sight that had caused Odin to stop short.

The Destroyer stood over the Tesseract, bent at an unholy angle and unmoving. The scent of heated metal drew disgusted faces but no one dared speak.

Odin took a few more steps, until he reached the doorway. He refused to enter the room any further, afraid of what else he would find. Yet his men looked up at him, wondering what to do about the mess before them.

It took Odin a few more moments to snap out of his trance. When he was fully present in front of his men, he raised his chin and spoke with a voice that refused to falter. "Search for any missing objects. Weapons or not."

After barking out his orders and watching the guards leap into action, Odin turned and began to make his way back down the hall in which he came. A guard stood rigid near the entrance, just as he did. He beckoned the guard closer and spoke with a voice much less powerful. "Go and have someone wake Queen Frigga."

He gave the guard a head start, watching the younger man disappear into darkness. Shaking his head, Odin decided he was too pensive for such a dire situation. Yet no rational thought could silence that insistent nagging at the back of his mind.

The gust of a man had long since left the metal beast and the weapons vault in its past. Currently, it was making its way towards the westernmost part of the palace, looking for an exit that would not alert the watchmen now positioned in their towers. The lights used to pierce the darkness of night would find him in a heartbeat if he decided to escape through a window.

Taking the abundance of stairs moving him downwards as a definite good sign, the gust whirled closer and closer to ground level. Hoping for a side entrance or a decent opening wasn't an unfair wish.

After descending down a final staircase, the gust found himself in a large room with an exceptional amount of doors. A large set of double doors on the opposite side of the room attracted his attention. Perhaps he had found an exit at last?

Despite not having a solid form, what he recognized as a headache hit him like a hammer. All he had done was float closer to the exit, but the room had other plans for him. Flinching back, the gust examined what had caused him such agony, but found no one in sight. Trying again, he found himself blasted backwards, away from a wall decorated with ancient writings he didn't understand.

His one sided battle with the ruins of healing lasted an uncomfortably long time, until he was able to swallow the head splitting pain and inch his way to the double doors.

A door behind him opened, followed by footsteps that stopped when they caught sight of the gust attempting to escape. He turned, trembling from the pain the ruins inflicted, that made him look even more unnerving. The woman in the doorway was no magic user; her helplessness and terror were practically edible.

Eir, walking out of the hospital ward to investigate a rattling noise, had to pinch herself to ensure she wasn't dreaming. A formless cloud had just turned and _looked_ at her. It was floating halfway across the room, heading towards the garden exit. Her slanted eyes widened, confused as to how she should react. Her mouth fell open but no words existed for this situation.

Her ears twitched, picking up the sound of footsteps. Guards? Eir's hand shuddered as the gust turned back around, deciding escape was more important.

The Healer spun on her heel, but instead of sprinting back inside to pseudo safety, she grabbed the door handles and snapped the Healing Ward shut. She had no idea what the gust wanted or if doors would hold it back, but what else could she do except try?

Coiling, the gust felt itself begin to disperse under the pressure of the ruins. In one final attempt at escape, the gust sent out a blast of air, successfully opening the entrance but being blown backwards in the process. Instead of opting for death via being found, the gust slipped under the frame of another door, as far away from the ruins as he could manage.

Spinning back around and spreading her arms out as if she were enough to shield the patients inside, Eir was greeted with the sight of the exit blown wide open. No sentient cloud was in sight.

Chest rising and falling even when the guards finally arrived, Eir stared at the exit. She was waiting for it to return and kill her.

When the guards reached her, brandishing weapons and providing protection, Eir's eyes remained glassy. They refused to shift from the unyielding night sky. Who knew what else would rear its omnipotent head?

* * *

A bloody sunrise greeted Asgard that morning.

"My King." A standard greeting from the gatekeeper offered a sense of normalcy to the conversation that would no doubt become heavy. Heimdall's lack of movement was not a dismissal of Odin's presence, but a matter of routine. His gaze rarely left the vastness of space.

"I assume you know why I am here?" Odin asked. He was tired, and it was told in his monotonous voice.

"Last night there was an intruder in Asgard," Heimdall stated. He turned away from whatever scene he had been observing and stepped down from his post. "That made an attempt on your life."

"I did not come here to hear of things I already know." Odin's coarseness didn't rile even a flinch from the gatekeeper.

"Then it is no use telling you that whatever attacked you had no form for me to see."

"You must have seen something," Odin stated, his voice quick with impatience. "I saw it for an instant. You must have as well."

"For half of a heartbeat," Heimdall nodded. "I saw the shape of it while it was on fire, same as you."

"Then its escape from the Healing Ward?" Odin said, disappointed those words didn't come from the mouth of Heimdall. "The doors were blown open and it vanished into the night."

"So I've heard," Heimdall said, causing Odin's teeth to grind in frustration.

"You tell me that you saw nothing?" Odin demanded, gripping his staff tighter as frustration built under his skin. Threatening the gatekeeper would not open his eyes to the past.

"I saw the doors open and a scared woman close a door," Heimdall said. "The room between them was dark and if there was something there, I could not see it clearly."

Yell was what Odin _wanted_ to do at that moment, but settling his gaze to the golden floor was how he spent the next few seconds. Heimdall watched him, knowing his anger and apprehension as an exaggerated version of his own. Accepting that he had failed, that he had allow an intruder come so close to harming the king, was a burden in itself.

"The weapons vault," Odin tried.

"No," Heimdall responded. Not in the halls, not when it escaped, nowhere. This truth took a few more moments to digest. Heimdall never looked away from the image of his pensive King.

When Odin straightened his posture and hit his staff against the ground, ending the tense silence, Heimdall also adjusted his grip on his sword.

"Who did you allow into Asgard before last night?" Odin asked. The shift in conversation didn't help lighten the atmosphere.

"Many," the gatekeeper said, perhaps testing the king's patience. "But if you imagine someone smuggled your attacker in… I have been having similar thoughts."

"Who?"

"The daughter of Jania, who passed through yesterday before sundown."

Odin, despite the implications, finally had a solid lead. This rejuvenated him, straightening his spine and flaring his nostrils. "Are you sure?"

"She disappeared from my sight not a week ago," Heimdall reassured. "If there was any time for her to coordinate an attack…"

"Where is she?" Odin's voice was curt.

"In the village," Heimdall said, climbing back to his position without worrying about turning his back on the king. "Preparing to settle in for a longer stay than she is permitted."

Odin knew there was nothing else to be said. He left the gatekeeper in heavy silence.

* * *

Loki was not alone when his attention was compromised for the hundredth time that morning. A red haired woman sat across from him, rolling her eyes at his impertinent staring. It was a patrol of guards. Those weren't exactly few and far between in a place like Asgard.

She opened her mouth to ask why he had set his book down with such finality, but he shushed her prematurely. He rose slowly, straining his ears and pressing his fingertips against the table as if to silence it as well.

The woman gave him a considerate glance before returning to her task of sewing patterns into small pieces of fabric.

Loki's head jerked to the side as he heard one of the men outside utter the phrase that had made him jump out of his seat all morning:

"... Attacked the king-"

"Sh! Not here, you idiot."

"No one's here."

Loki pushed away from the table and all but ran towards the door, throwing it open and revealing that there was, in fact, someone else there. The guards lost all colour in their cheeks.

The prince looked them up and down carefully. Their thinly veiled terror confirmed his suspicions; Odin didn't want him knowing why security had doubled throughout the day. Fortunately, Odin wasn't there at that moment.

"What attack?" Loki demanded. They wouldn't dare to not respond to a Prince, would they?

"Our apologies, My Liege, but we are under direct orders to reveal nothing." Loki clicked his tongue and looked back to the doorway, frustration pumping through his veins.

In said doorway stood the red-haired woman, her curiosity better hidden than Loki's but just as strong. He looked at her, piecing together his next words carefully. When he turned back to the guards, his eyes were alight.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"We cannot say-"

"Anything about the attack," Loki cut them off, waving off their regurgitated words. "That's not what I asked."

"We're … patrolling the castle," one guard asked, looking at the other while adjusting his grip on his staff. His partner looked straight ahead, sweating under the pressure. Trapped between the nightmare prince dressed in green that was _bound_ to get them in trouble and his evident loophole, the guard cringed when Loki gestured for him to keep talking. Deciding he wanted to leave before the prince's mood turned sour, the guard continued. "Looking for the Daughter of Jania."

Instead of leaving them alone, Loki grew even more persistent. "What? Why?" He uncrossed his arms and looked between the faces of each guard impatiently.

"Odin looks for her," the same guard replied, looking to his glassy partner for help once more. Help that never came.

" _Why_?" Loki practically shouted, dread entering his mind and strangling any positive answer he may receive. Did she do something? After _he_ let her into Asgard?

"Loki." His name came not from the stricken guard, but from the woman who had sidled up beside him after hearing his dismay. She placed a hand on his shoulder that he shrugged off quickly, but spun to face her.

"She's done something," Loki muttered, eyes wide. He could see his father's reprimanding glare in his mind's eyes. Loki's hands clenched together before relaxing.

"Who?" the woman asked, looking from an unresponsive Loki to the guard who also offered her silence. "Who's this Jania Daughter?"

He barely heard the woman speak. All at once, the previous night returned to him. His chest expanded, equally furious and insulted in his vivid overreaction. "I'll kill her myself."

" _Who?_ " the woman exclaimed, waving her hands to try and bring him back to solid ground. "Who is she?"

Instead of answering, Loki turned and began to stalk down the hall, more scenarios plaguing him, the next always worst than the last. The poor red-haired woman trailed in his wake, begging for an explanation.

* * *

"Dallea?"

Queen Frigga was advised to check near the overgrown area of the lake, as some gardeners caught sight of a woman travelling there many hours before. When she felt she was close enough, she observed the sight of Dallea, wearing a plain grey dress akin to that of a servant's. Her entire arm was submerged in the lake, and she seemed to be humming something while carefully attempting to … touch the fish? Frigga couldn't tell.

However, after Frigga spoke the elf's name (barely above a whisper), pandemonium erupted. Startled at the closeness of another person, Dallea tried wrench her hand from the water and stand up, but her legs extended first. Instead of gracefully rising to greet the intruder, she slipped on the moss-covered rocks and dove head first into the lake.

"Oh my-" Frigga cried, covering her mouth for a second before surging forward to see if she could offer a hand.

Dallea knew how to swim fairly well, but the coldness of the water was not welcome and so she ended up rearing back and sputtering to the surface like some wild beast. Hair splayed across her face, Dallea blearily looked at the image of Queen Frigga bent by the lake, soaking her dress and offering her a hand.

Dallea sat back on her heels. The water went up to her torso, but she would gladly drown herself if she didn't feel obligated to take the Queen's hand.

There wasn't much to say after that. Frigga held Dallea's shoulders and tried to capture her eyes. Shivering and humiliated, Dallea coughed. She lost a shoe in the water.

Frigga rubbed her arm, then moved her hand to better steer Dallea out of the lakeside muck. "Let's go and-"

"I'm sorry."

Frigga shook her head, refusing to listen to the crack in Dallea's voice. She held one of the elf's hands in both of hers, squeezing occasionally as they escaped onto level ground.

"I'm sorry," Dallea tried again, her voice stronger this time. "Your dress … For Yggdrasil's sake …" After realizing what she just said, Dallea clamped a hand over her mouth.

"I shouldn't have startled you," Frigga stated, brushing off Dallea's stammering with a flick of her wrist.

"I don't mind," Dallea said. Her quivering body bared to differ.

Queen Frigga took a long look at Dallea. She adjusted her grip on Dallea's hand. The elf sloppily wiped her hair from her face and plucked a sea plant from her dress.

"You haven't changed one bit," Frigga said. Her tone was not praising nor condescending. "Not a single bit."

"Thank you," she said. Dallea didn't know if that was necessarily a compliment, though.

"How have you been?" Frigga asked, face breaking into a beautiful smile. Divulging into small talk put her more at ease, Dallea could see.

"Fine. Very fine. How have you been?" Dallea said.

"Good."

Dallea nodded, opening her mouth. A ghost of a smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. Only a polite grimace remained. There was a distance between them, even though Frigga still hadn't let go of her hand. Dallea didn't know how to reach across it.

Frigga continued with a contemplative tone, shifting uncomfortably in her damp clothing. "Dear Skandi told me about a Rekkr in her midst. I had no idea."

Dallea brought her lips up into a quasi smile. That was the point.

"I never thought Jania would allow you," Frigga admitted. Her tone was jesting, but the temperature dropped a few degrees. Dallea looked down. "Oh dear…"

Dallea should have stayed in the water, if she was going to open and close her mouth like a fish. There was no excuse or half hearted joke that she could make to falter the pity and disappointment in Frigga's stare. No, she hadn't changed.

However, in reality disappointment was the farthest thing from Frigga's mind. Anger, maybe, but definitely not directed at the woman in front of her.

"How was it?" Frigga asked. Dallea looked up hesitantly. "Fighting with Vanaheim?"

Dallea smiled. There was a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. "Good. Great, even."

Frigga looked between Dallea's eyes, as if one spoke a different message than the other. Instead of ducking away again, Dallea pawed her hair away from her face so the Queen could see her smile more clearly.

"I hope you didn't give them too much trouble," Frigga teased. Well, almost teased.

Dallea searched for something easy to reply. After too long of an awkward pause, she said: "Nothing they couldn't handle."

It was Frigga's turn to hesitate. She was so inclined to believe that the only thing amiss about Dallea was how socially cut off she was. Such a thing would be expected if Skandi wasn't lying and Dallea had spent most of her time as Rekkr alone. However, Dallea also could be wilting under the guilt of sneaking an enemy into Asgard, as Odin suspected.

To Frigga, Dallea still looked like a little girl, looking at the Queen with quiet awe. Perhaps Frigga shouldn't have offered to speak with the elf before Odin did; it was more difficult than she anticipated.

Besides, she had Dallea's hand in a death grip and could not sense any inkling of dark magic that could bypass Heimdall's sight.

Dallea stood patiently as Frigga overturned her concerns once, then once more. Then, as if second guessing herself already, Frigga slowly released Dallea's hand. "Well, I hope you treat us just as kindly."

Blinking, Dallea couldn't articulate her confusion fast enough. "What?"

"Well, I assumed since that is something you enjoy, you would be inclined to help us defend Asgard," Frigga said. "Unless I'm mistaken and you've come for another reason …"

The Queen was teasing again, but Dallea turned a brilliant shade of red anyway. While ducking her head to avoid eye contact she could feel a weight be lifted off of her chest. In coming here she didn't know, not until the moment that it was spoken, that if by leaving Vanaheim she was also leaving behind being a soldier. "I would be honoured to."

Frigga smiled. "That's good to hear. If you aren't too busy settling in, then there is a small excursion happening tomorrow morning."

"Why? Where?" Dallea blurted. She slapped a hand over her mouth as her eyes widened. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's fine, child," Frigga nodded. "It's a matter I would rather leave up to Odin to explain. If you're interested, go to his study after sunset. He'll explain everything."

"Thank you," Dallea said slowly. There was a question in her tone and lingering on her face.

"Your friends are a unit that have been together for years now," Frigga said taking a shot at why Dallea looked quizzical. "If you ever hope to work with them you have to start right away."

Dallea nodded once. She would be lying if that comment didn't make her feel a little disheartened. Frigga placed one final hand on Dallea's shoulder before brushing past her, probably to go and get changed.

Dallea stayed there and stared at the water for a long time.

* * *

As Frigga stated, the warriors of Asgard gathered around the study just after nightfall. Six waited patiently for Odin to unlock the doors and allow them entry. The seventh, who peered from a safe distance away like a stalker, made no move to join them. Dallea churned her hands together looking at the fun they were having. Knowing she was most likely exaggerating their friendly banter for life-changing humorous exchanges, the elf still didn't move.

What a terrible idea this was. She felt ashamed for even looking. Frustrated by her own insecurities and wishing she could cease to exist, Dallea was about to turn away when Odin finally opened the doors with a heartstopping crash.

Holding her heart, Dallea pressed herself against a wall parallel to the doors of the study. Safely out of sight now but still alert for the sounds of footsteps, she instead caught the tail end of a quip by none other than Prince Loki.

A terrible grimace took hold upon hearing his voice. Dallea's hand rose to her throat and squeezed. The pain she caused was still not on par with the memories of the previous day in the library. For Yggdrasil's sake, that man would be the death of her.

With one arm occupied by rubbing her neck, she used her free hand to run a thumb over her bracelet. She felt only the bone of her wrist.

Jerking her arm away in order to inspect it properly, she received the sight of a bare arm. Hiking up the sleeves of her dress to see if it had slipped, she checked her other arm, hands patting anywhere it might be.

"No, no," Dallea chanted, her heart composing a drumroll. "Please, no."

Dallea's mind became rampant with incoherent questions: Where could she have put it? Where was it last? Had she seen it at dinner? Did someone steal it? Was asking around any use? Had she dropped it in the-

Snapping to attention, Dallea recalled the image of herself slipping off her bracelet while edging closer to the water. Dallea was already halfway down the hall when she completed the thought, going the opposite direction of the meeting and cursing herself all the while.

The meeting went on without her. A restless start hushed when Odin positioned him at the front of the six warriors. There was a pause where he stared into the space between two people. When he was finally present, his voice was calm.

"I trust you," Odin began. The six warriors, not wanting to miss a syllable, practically held their breath waiting. "I trust your abilities. I trust that if any of you had seen any hint about where the Mares were coming from, you would tell me.

"The only other option, if none of you have seen anything so far, is that the Mares are coming from somewhere else. You haven't been to two places since this terrorism began; Svartalfheim and Muspelheim."

A few murmurs and grunts of recognition sounded through the room. Odin raised a hand and it immediately fell silent.

Just as the room fell silent, Dallea threw open a very old and creaky door in her trek for the lakeside. The night was thick with humidity and hazy in its darkness, like a thin sheet was draped over her as soon as she stepped outside. Bugs and small animals cooed and clicked as she raced down the path, leading near the lake.

Her footfalls became rhythmic, until suddenly they weren't. Another beat of heels on gravel joined her own. Hairs on her arm standing straight up, Dallea swiveled around and dug her heels into the earth. And listened.

No one else was on the path with her in any direction. In fact, she couldn't see any signs of life whatsoever. Hesitantly, she began walking again. Every noise from then on was drawn out and mocking.

Odin continued. "In a way, we are already at war. War with those beastly NightMares, but only in a figurative sense. War is something entirely different." Odin ran his handthrough his beard. His eye patch seemed to glitter as memories threated to overthrow his calm demeanor. "I will do everything I can to ensure nothing about this situation escalates to that, and all of you must keep that in mind when we travel to Muspelheim tomorrow morning."

Thor's voice was the loudest but his words weren't clear as a million other questions bubbled up at the exact same moment. Odin held his staff in both hands and slammed it to the ground three times.

 _Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Almost immediately the room was silent once more.

"War is not a suggestion. It is not even a thought at this point. The only reason for travelling and going through the trouble of speaking with the Fire Giants is to see if they are unaware that Mares are invading, and to see if a nest of them has hidden in a crevice no one has bothered to check."

Odin paused, wondering if he should continue or not. Looking at eagerness in the warriors eyes instead of wariness convinced him to. After all, the slight disarray of the study was a terrying reminder that something had nearly killed him not a day ago.

"Because ever since this invasion began, every crevice is dangerous. Every dark place is a haven of hell and horror."

Dallea reached the spot where she had been earlier that day, slightly out of breath after deciding she would jog to make sure her time outside in the stifling heat and darkness was as limited as possible.

The bog right next to the lake looked intimidating at night. Every frond was a long, sickly finger protruding from the earth drag her under. Every rustle of the breeze made goosebump rise all over her arms.

Fortunately the moon was bright that night, and even though the shadows were large in numbers, they were fairly shallow. She shuffled forwards, trying to remember which rock she had placed it on…

The one farthest from the water. It glinted in the moonlight, purple beads shimmering like they were worth more than they were. Relief welled in chest, the thought of turning around and going back into the castle a welcomed thought.

Her fingertips touched the smooth beads and immediately she yanked them away. The bracelet was unnaturally hot, more hot than fire itself. Cradling her burnt hand carefully, she felt the sting sharply even after a few minutes of blankly staring at the deceiving piece of jewelry.

"You've been lucky so far," Odin said. The warriors listened but couldn't quite understand why Odin's eyes glazed over the way they did. Thor was especially confused as to why his father's blank stare rested on him as he continued. "Don't let it get to your head. Be thankful that those creatures haven't crawled into your beds and drove you insane."

Dallea didn't want to touch it again, but she did anyway. Curiosity overcame her rationality and this time she touch it lightly with her index finger. Her hand shook until she made contact.

"They could never," Loki interrupted, the confidence in his voice comical to his father. "Asgard is too well protected."

The bracelet was a normal temperature. Dallea brought her hand away then touched it again. If anything, it was kind of cool. She touched her burnt fingerpads and then stared at them, dumbfounded. They weren't burnt at all.

Odin looked at his son with an unreadable expression. After a few moments he could muster only one reply: "You must be cautious. Swear to me. All of you."

A chorus of "I swear" and "Aye"'s rang through the room for the next few seconds.

Dallea took the bracelet in one shaky hand, doubting not only her mind but the stifling night around her. Standing quickly, she looked around again. The feeling of being watched nagged at the back of her mind.

Odin dismissed the warriors and stood alone in his study for quite some time afterwards. Whatever had happened the night before wasn't something he could shake, no matter how he hid it. Perhaps it was a good thing Frigga had convinced him to let the elf come with them the next day. He didn't trust her in the slightest and needed to keep her in eyesight until he had the proof to persecute her for it.

The thought of leaving the bracelet behind or even throwing it into the lake made Dallea's lower lip quiver. Nanny would understand, but she would never forgive herself. As stupid as it was, Dallea kept the bracelet in her hand and escaped the lakeside as quickly as she could, never looking back.

Odin rubbed the exhaustion from his one good eye, thinking of the day and what was to come. His mind drifted to his sons, strong in mind and body, but not quite ready for what Odin feared this invasion would become.

"Be safe," Odin whispered hoarsely to nothing but his own terrified self. "For Yggdrasil's sake, be safe."


	7. Familiarity Breeds Contempt

_Chapter 7: Familiarity Breeds Contempt_

The sounds of clinking armour and the excited chatter of people preparing for battle died the instant Dallea entered the room. There was no way she could pretend it wasn't happening, which left her only course of action to be standing still until someone broke the silence.

It took a while. Either too polite or too at a loss for words, the warriors three exchanged almost identical looks of confusion. Sif waited for her to speak. Of course Thor was the one to sit up and ask: "What are you doing?"

Her mouth was too dry to sound as confident as she had hoped. "I've come to prepare myself."

"For what?" Dallea knew his words were supposed to sting. She even braced herself before he opened his mouth, knowing what he was about to say would diminish her, and she shrunk anyway.

"For the voyage to Muspelheim today," Dallea said, as if everyone in the room didn't know that was precisely what she meant. Her eyes instinctively flit to Loki, who raised his eyebrows and looked to his brother. His arms were crossed.

Thor looked at her as if she was a foreign creature. Dallea swallowed hard, but stood her ground.

"My father said-"

"The Queen instructed me to come along with you," Dallea interrupted, nerves getting the best of her. If she let him speak for even a moment longer she would turn on her heel and leave. Withdrawing his elbow from his leg, Thor receded to a more stoic sitting position. Evidently, he did not appreciate being cut off. "Your father as well. They approached me earlier this morning."

"Is that so?" Thor asked, his tone slightly mocking. This time Dallea didn't even flinch.

"Yes."

The eldest son's eye twitched, annoyed she was pretending to not understand his subtle rudeness. As a response, he wordlessly resumed gathering his armour.

Dallea's shoulders relaxed only a fraction. There were still five other people staring at her. She looked between each one of them until they followed Thor's example and simply ignored her. As the Norns would conceive it, Loki was the last one to look away. He inspected her for so long that eventually she looked away and walked towards where spare armour sat in a cluttered heap.

As she tried on different pieces of metal, she felt eyes on the back of her head. Licking her lips, she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and kept searching for a breastplate small enough to fit her. Every movement she made was jerky and ungraceful as the tension in the room made it hard for her to breathe properly.

A tap on her shoulder made her jump, whirring around and expecting something much more aggressive. Sif stared at her, obviously concerned.

"Are you alright?" Sif asked, watching the fear leak from Dallea's eyes. Dallea shrugged as a response and hoped the action made her look careless and less on edge. Sif, accepting she wouldn't get a better reply than that, shifted and help up a breastplate that was a bit rusty and less sleek that she was used to. "You can use my old one, since I doubt any of these will fit you."

Sif thrust her chin in the direction of the mismatched pieces of armour and Dallea agreed with a nod.

"You can use any of my old things you want, they're over there," Sif pointed to a corner near where she kept her current armour. Dallea looked down at the breastplate in her hands, holding it as if it were made of glass.

"Thank you," Dallea said.

"Don't mention it," Sif replied, then reached out and held her shoulder in a display of affection Dallea was familiar with.

After Sif moved away, Dallea shifted to head to the corner she had been directed towards. She looked down at her wrist and frowned. Her other hand ghosted over the purple bracelet, debating whether she should take it off.

The longer she looked at it, the more she thought of Nanny. A refreshing calm passed over her, and she tucked it into her shirt sleeve. For good luck, she thought.

None of the warriors had ever journeyed to Muspelheim. Not only was the political climate between Asgard and said realm undesirable, but there were very few beings in the universe that could stand to be there for extended periods of time.

Dallea understood why when the Bifrost had long since faded from view and left them in a place that had never seen the light of day. Sluggish volcanoes and rivers of molten lava illuminated the hazy landscape, only enough for deeper shadows to form. The ground was a harsh rock that was as bleak and lifeless as the forever grey sky, albeit darker.

Directly to her right there was a large tree that was charred black, dead for a considerable length of time, and leaning in the direction of a zigzagging path.

Odin, at the helm of this envoy, looked upon Muspelheim and grit his jaw. The Fire Giants weren't infamous for their building capabilities, but one would think they would at least bury their dead after letting them rot on the surface for centuries.

When the king began to march down the path, the warriors didn't hesitate before following, determined not to let their unease show.

The path was a steep decline leading to a bridge that looked like most of it had been destroyed a long time ago. In fact, most of the structures they passed seemed to belong to a long destroyed civilization, not to some of the most feared creatures to ever exist. Occasionally they'd pass a half decayed body of a Fire Giant, or they'd be stared at by the living ones. Odin kept a careful eye on Thor to ensure his son never kept their gaze for longer than a few seconds.

Travelling near the center of the group, Dallea could only let fear cast her eyes down for so long. Eventually she had to look up and reach the gaze of a Fire Giant who was grunting at them in another language. For all of its vehemence, it stayed safely inside its hut, training its beady eyes on each of the warriors, one by one.

When it was Dallea's turn to be glared at, the Giants' incoherent spitting halted instantly. Its eyes, two pitch black holes with flaming embers in the center, followed her long after Dallea was looking forward again. Even after the Giant was long behind them, Dallea couldn't shake its haunting stare.

At long last they made it to the bridge. Far below them, at the bottom of the yawning chasm, a frothing river of lava lay waiting. Odin held up his hand to stop them from advancing any further.

"Four will cross first, and then the other four will follow," Odin ordered. His voice cut through the air, a jab of familiarity in an alien landscape. "Do not make any sudden moves; it is less stable than it seems."

Thor grunted and adjusted his hammer, opening his mouth to suggest he simply leap over the chasm. He was more than capable, they all knew.

For reasons he didn't disclose aloud, Odin pressed a warning glare against Thor's sudden movement.

Thor loosened his grip on his weapon and looked forward upon seeing the severity in his father.

To Dallea, the bridge already seemed terribly unstable. She wiped her sweaty hands on her cloak, and took a step backwards, deciding to cross the bridge in the second group. Sif, Loki, Thor, and Odin began a painstakingly slow journey across. Or perhaps it seemed especially slow to Dallea, who was nervously biting her nails.

The bridge was lined with huge spikes that looked like they existed for decoration more than practicality. They started off small and gradually became larger as they reached the center of the bridge. On the right hand side, they decreased in size once again near the far ledge. Dallea would have guessed that the pattern continued on the left hand side a long time ago, before a huge chunk was taken out of the bridge.

When it came time for them to cross the small sliver of rock left from where the bridge had collapsed, they crossed it one by one. Odin first, then Thor, then Sif, then …

Loki caught sight of something at the bottom of the chasm and nearly lost his footing. Dallea's heart was in her mouth until he had regained his balance and jumped to safety. She didn't have time to be relieved; it was her turn now.

There was an immediate difference, Dallea noticed, going from solid ground to the bridge. Or maybe it was her imagination running rampant. Either way, she tried to keep her footfalls light and careful.

She looked to Fandral, who held his foil in both hands. He nodded at her twice and she looked forward again.

Due to her eagerness to get off the bridge or not, she was the first to reach the sliver. It was a good three strides wide, but the size made her nervous anyway. She swore she wouldn't look down, but of course she did anyway.

Near the bottom of the chasm, laid to rest in a way that the lava couldn't touch it, was a large carcass of a Fire Giant. It wore some sort of armour that was damaged beyond repair and black with soot. It was angled in a way that made Dallea believe it had been thrown into the chasm, or perhaps slipped in, and on its way down took out a large portion of the bridge. She looked over her shoulder, to check her theory and see if there was a place where the land had been ruptured due to a struggle.

Instead, she was met with the sight of hundreds upon hundreds of Fire Giants gathering around the chasm. They seemed interested in only observing the Asgardians; for the moment.

Hogun, who was wondering why their progress had completely stopped, followed her gaze. By the time he looked back, Dallea was considerably quicker in her exit and joined the other group who were already speculating.

"They're restless," Thor said to no one but Odin, the one who held his reins as tight as ever.

"They won't try anything," Odin replied. Volstagg only had a few more steps until he joined them, then they could continue.

They now stood at the base of a particularly large volcano that had seemed like just another shadow from their original path. Now that they were closer, the damage of the buildings was more obviously from a battle. The chinks in the rock from swords and spears, various magical burns that missed their mark and blew out windows instead.

More Giants reared their heads, watching them as they marched on. Not that she was ignorant to it before, but from then on Dallea understood the barely contained hatred she was given from the Giants. They lived like this because Asgard made them like this.

Their destination was clearly now a somehow still intact castle nestled between two volcanoes. The path that leads to its door was straight so all the Giants behind them could continue looking until they entered.

The closer the Asgardians got, however, the more the murmured disdain became a vocal, hissing hatred. Subconsciously the group became more tightly knit, Dallea taking a second to catch on before following suit. The Giants were pressing in on them now, strengthened by their mutual hatred and numbers. Odin seemed to remain calm.

"Father…" Thor pressed, gripping his weapon tightly as one Giant stepped in their path. It spat and roared and bared its craggy teeth, sporadically gesturing to a thin piece of cloth hanging around its midsection.

Dallea knew next to nothing about Fire Giants, but she knew enough about animals to recognize a pouch for mothers to place their young. The Giant blamed them for whatever happened to her child. She was so adamant and angry that no one was sure whether she would move when they finally reached her.

Dallea, who was tightly gripping her sheath, pulled her sword out enough to display a warning. Though she would have to fight to get a lick in with the rest of the Asgardians quietly teeming with energy and bloodlust.

As if the mother noticed this, she stepped to the side when the time came. Yet she never adjusted the volume of her cussing, even as they entered the palace.

The change in scenery was a welcoming thought, but far from a welcoming reality. The air quality was just as terrible and full of smoke as the outside. The floors were a shinier material that gave the illusion of brightness when it reflected the giant bonfire in the center of the room.

An escort was waiting for them by the fire. It said nothing to Odin and so Odin said nothing to it. They didn't scrutinize each other either; the Giant turned as soon as the Asgardians were near it and lead them down an adjoining corridor.

Dallea supposed light wasn't always a necessity for creatures that were comprised of mostly fire, but Dallea found the darkness unnerving. She couldn't ever see properly and swore the shadows moved when she turned her head…

Dallea zeroed in on one shadow in particular. It clung to the ceiling, completely still for a good amount of time, enough for her to doubt her eyes. Until she caught it jump in the opposite direction she was traveling.

She spun around, maybe to follow it, and scared Sif, who was directly behind her. Before the confusion could sour into anything else, Dallea quickly turned around, shoulders tight with embarrassment.

At the end of the corridor was another door that presumably lead to the King, but Dallea would never know. Odin ordered everyone aside from his sons to remain outside along with the escort. No questions were asked and the doors shut behind them with an echoing bang.

Dallea would have gladly stayed in the first few seconds; where everyone was shunned equally. Everyone was on the same page and muttered a scathing retort about how they were never included in anything.

"Brilliant, it is," Volstagg said, leaning against the wall and letting his axe drop to his side. "I hope we don't miss an army marching down this hallway."

"I'm glad there are five of us to do it, too," Fandral chimed in, easing his shoulder beside his friend. He tossed a wary glance at the Fire Giant escort, who couldn't look less interested if he tried. "Five and a half."

Hogun punched Fandral but even he joined in as they all laughed. All except Dallea, of course. She could practically feel the rupture between her and them form, the ringing in her ears one of the lesser indications.

When she first pressed her back again the wall she was near Sif. Yet as their conversation moved forward and left Dallea behind, they became more and more tightly knit until Dallea was a few paces away. They naturally gravitated away from her.

She stared straight ahead, still pondering the words Fandral spoke. There was no way the giant didn't hear. As much as the Fire Giant was ugly and rough and cowing to be in the presence of, Dallea couldn't help but be embarrassed. Embarrassed that it had to hear such a thing when it looked like it didn't want to be there in the first place. The more she thought about it, the more she was glad she was physically dissociated from the Asgardians who were laughing quite obnoxiously.

Dallea swallowed thickly and touched her ears. There was a pit in her stomach that was too sour to be fear.

She looked to her left, in the opposite direction of the door, searching for a distraction. Instead she found a shadow. One that stilled when it made eye contact with Dallea, and then slowly scuttled backwards.

Her reaction was instantaneous. Pushing off the wall and placing a warning hand on her sword, she squared herself to the shadow. The warriors three were so caught up in themselves they didn't notice how Dallea was staring into the darkened hallway with such intense focus.

The shadow blinked, its eyes familiar and dark even as they stood out amidst the ill-lighted corridor. Yet those eyes were Dallea's only indication that she was not just seeing things. They shifted left, most likely because the monster attached to them feigned in that direction, and Dallea darted towards it. As she ran, she removed her hand from her sword hilt. She'd have much better luck without a bulkier weapon.

Her knife whistled out of its sheath with a clear note. Its echoes eventually turned the sound ominous, especially when the chatter of the warriors three became more distant.

The eyes were gone. Now that she was within it, the darkness of the hallway felt more substantial. She waited one second, then another. Going deeper into the darkness with nothing but her unadjusted eyes seemed less than ideal, so she rolled her shoulders back and turned around.

No one had noticed her movement aside from the Giant, who seemed entirely uninterested still in what she was doing.

Her left hand erupted in pain, causing her back to arch. No sound erupted from her mouth; years of silenced agony made the reaction easy. She tried to jerk her arm away from the source of the pain, but it held fast. Two eyes attached to the body of a Mare had bitten down on her hand, hard enough that she feared it would be bit clean off. She could feel its teeth digging into her flesh, getting closer to the bone every second.

Raising her knife in the air, she didn't get the opportunity to follow through with her action. It released her as quickly as it came, and then scrambled into the darkness.

Dropping her knife, Dallea grabbed her wrist and held it tightly as if to cut off circulation to the throbbing pain in each of her fingers.

"Dallea?" The voice belonged to Sif, finally at attention thanks to the loud clatter of the knife. Dallea turned at her name, but wouldn't look away from her hand that felt like it was on fire at this point. She had witnessed men be bit by those creatures but never stuck around long enough to see if they survived or died a slow death.

Allowing herself to come out of the blackness to see her wound better, her face went pale. She flexed her fingers and the pain began to ebb away. There was no wound. Not even a slight indent on her skin.

The doors opened and out came a Fire Giant that was larger than any of the others she had seen. It didn't seem pleased, the doors slamming on either wall to amplify the impatience on its face. Odin's voice sounded within the room, but the Giant did not respond. It looked around the hallway, surveying the watch guard and the warriors three carefully before noticing Dallea, and her extended hand.

Its eyes narrowed. Dallea stopped breathing and released her hand quickly, pinning it to her side.

Its lips pulled back. For a terrifying moment, Dallea thought it was going to speak.

Instead, it looked to the guard and dealt out a silent command. With this new order in mind, the guard stood straight and walked a few paces down the hallway.

The largest Giant finally turned back to Odin. "This visit is over."

Dallea looked down at her hand warily, flipping it over to observe the alternate side. Her bracelet glinted in the minimal light.

She felt as though she were moving through syrup while everyone else was hurrying around her. Unable to empathize with the hastiness of the others, she gave a long look towards the room where the large giant was retreating into.

Her vision must have been distorted as well, to see movement in the room with no object to cause it.

Loki's hand was on her shoulder in the next moment, yanking her back to reality. His face was tight with fear. "We have to go."

Only then did she allow herself to be dragged away.


	8. Break New Ground

_Chapter 8: Break New Ground_

* * *

In the middle of the hallway, somewhere near the north side of the palace, a large painting hung. The sheer detail within it was baffling. Odin and his grand staff, the warriors of Asgard, their enemies.

In this case their combatants were the Fire Giants lead by, Dallea guessed, Surtr.

Their features were grotesque beyond recognition almost to the point of complete propaganda. The Giants writhed and lifted Surtr up to reach Odin's height. The two leaders clashed terribly, as seen by the devastated landscape in the backdrop.

Dallea felt something within her chest tighten at the realization that the backdrop was not Asgard in flames, but Muspelheim that looked more beautiful than it had the previous day. Blinking twice quickly, Dallea looked down at her palm and studied it carefully.

When they had returned to Asgard the previous day she had been much more fascinated with it. She didn't know who caught her obsessively rubbing her own hand. All she knew was that she was summoned down to the medical bay and told she was to have a few tests done.

Dallea had to remove all of her excess clothing and jewelry and lay on a crystalline surface. Since Dallea was so noticeably nervous, Eir sent her a handful of reassuring smiles as a number of medical personnelle flit around, doing their jobs.

Halfway through one of the tests, Eir was standing over Dallea and gave her another easy smile. It was at that moment Dallea realized how grossly visible her ears had been throughout the entire process. There were a number of indicators that told Eir the cause of the sudden horror on Dallea's face.

"I know," Eir said, not able to help grinning. Still uneasy but content for the moment, Dallea mirrored the motion.

They didn't find anything. Every test showed she was perfectly stable. And yet the sporadic pricks of pain in her palm lead her to believe otherwise. She wasn't about to tell them that piece of information, however.

Dallea wondered, looking back up at the canvas, if the mother she had seen in Muspelheim was one of the giants that held up Surtr. She wondered if that mother would still hold him up knowing she would lose her home.

Furrowing her eyebrows with uncertainty, Dallea continued to stare. Would it not be something if somewhere in Muspelheim, there hung a painting just like this one, with the roles reversed? If Odin and the Asgardians were twisted and grotesque?

Shame; she couldn't explain why, but it washed over her at the thought. Was she actually _sympathizing_?

She looked at the old Muspelheim, one whose buildings had not yet been reduced to rubble. Buildings that to this very day had not been rebuilt.

Maybe, she decided.

"Do you like it?"

Dallea jumped. It was Prince Loki. Seeing him did not make her heart rate decrease. She flit her eyes away, embarrassed she had been thinking such thoughts with him close by.

He stepped closer, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were not at all sympathetic when they glanced over the painting. He looked back at Dallea.

"Well?"

Dallea exhaled slightly, thinking of the mother's pouch. "Not really."

Her response made a smile play on the corner of his mouth. "Do you often stare at things you don't like?"

"I-" Dallea stuttered, thrown off by his amusement. "I suppose so."

She didn't understand the look in his eye. "Should I be insulted, then?"

Her mouth fell open. Was there _anything_ to say to that? Perhaps an apology, perhaps an argument that she had not been staring at him. All her mouth could utter was a weak: "Um..."

His eyes bore into her soul. "Where were you three days ago?"

Rattled, she stepped backward with her arms raised slightly. "Wait … what?"

"Where," he enunciated. "Were you three days ago?"

There was a moment where she just stared at him. She heard him, but curiosity overcame rationale. "Why?"

"Answer the question," Loki ordered, voice biting.

"In the gardens, why?" Dallea responded quickly. "Were you looking for me?"

"What? No!" Loki said defensively. The loudness of his voice and the way he looked away from her face voiced embarrassment. Dallea, however, saw anger.

"Oh," she breathed. The floor was suddenly fascinating. Loki looked at her, at a momentary loss for words. He opened his mouth then immediately shut it. He drummed his fingers on his palm then tried again:

"My father was looking for you," Loki explained. His voice was considerably softer, but still hosted an edge of wariness. She looked up as he spoke and he hoped she could read the question on his face. After a few more seconds of her being hopelessly confused, he continued. "Be honest … did you do something?"

"No?" Dallea answered, going over every action from that day. "I accidentally went into the servant's quarters in the morning but that was a mistake. I also - accidentally - fell into the lake." Her mouth fell open, terror washing over her. "Oh no, is the Queen angry with me? I didn't mean to get her wet, it was an accident, I swear-"

"What are you… No, she's not upset with you." Loki furrowed his eyebrows but shook his head slightly. "Anything else? I won't be angry, I swear."

It was Dallea's turn to pull a face. "You're already angry."

Loki blinked and drew his head back. "Excuse me?"

Dallea, her fingertips buzzing with new found boldness, continued. "You were just yelling."

"Yelling?!" Loki echoed, face contorting into disbelief. "I was _asking_ you a question."

"Asking _angrily_ ," Dallea added. Loki stared at her for a moment and although she had to break eye contact a few times, she refused to bow her head. He crossed his arms.

"Well, I have a right to be cross with you," Loki said. "You're _my_ guest and you had the castle up in arms over something or other."

"What?" Dallea asked, all the colour vanishing from her cheeks. "I … what? What happened?"

"I'm asking you!" Loki said, gesturing to her impatiently.

"Right, sorry," Dallea said, shaking her head and looking at the floor. She thought for a few moments. Three days ago … she got up, wanted to go to the market, went into the servant's quarters because she took a wrong turn, then found the lake. Then Frigga came, then cleaning herself, then skipping the meeting and going to bed. Unless missing dinner was a criminal offense … "I can't think of anything out of the ordinary, sorry."

"What about the day before?" Loki asked.

"I was with you," Dallea said. "Then I went to bed, remember?"

"Right," Loki said slowly, scrutinizing her expression before sighing and looking down. He pulled a face at her ragged grey dress. "Where did you get that?"

"I found it in my room," Dallea said, touching the hem gingerly.

"That looks like a servant's spare uniform," Loki said, looking at her incredulously. "Don't you have your own clothes?"

"I …" Dallea's face reddened. She pawed at the neckline of her dress as Loki narrowed his eyes. "Yes."

He raised his eyebrows and waited for her to correct herself.

"Okay, I don't have any," she sighed.

"Then what was in your bags?" Loki asked in disbelief.

"There … well …" Dallea sputtered, humiliation rising in her chest. How did she explain clothes were the last thing on her mind when she was packing? "That's quite a rude thing to ask."

"I …" Loki started before stopping short. He looked down at her, his discomfort showing as he shifted his weight and took a moment to respond. "Not really."

"Of course it is!" Dallea said, adrenaline pumping through her trembling hands. "Would you ask someone what's in their dresser?"

"No," Loki resigned, taking this moment to look at Dallea. She had that defensiveness again, the one that bested his advances. He watched her wordlessly.

"Then why would you ask what's in my bag? It's my portable dresser. There isn't a difference," Dallea huffed. She looked at him, and he looked at her. The next few moments were filled with Dallea calming down and relaxing her shoulders. Her gusto was gone when she spoke again. "If you must know, I didn't bring any when I went to Vanaheim. All the dresses I wore there, I borrowed from Queen Skandi, and King Njörd only let me keep one," Dallea said, twisting her fingers and dropping her gaze to stare at Loki's chest. "And … that one's … dirty … so …"

Loki waited a heartbeat for her to admit she was joking. She continued to play with her hands. He dragged his hand down his face, exasperated. Seeing him search for something to say made her want to shrivel up and die

"You should have said something," Loki said, using the same hand as before to gesture to something in the corner of the room. Dallea stared at him, waiting to be scolded. "My mother has thousands; she makes some just to give them away. Go speak to her."

Dallea blinked. Then blinked again. He didn't sound like he was chastising her… She looked up at him as he nodded and waited for her to show she had heard him.

"Um, I'll go see her," Dallea said, mirroring his nod with two of her own, knowing full well she would do no such thing. "Thank you."

He cocked his head and looked at her with a knowing smirk. " _I_ will go speak to her about your situation, how about that?"

"You don't … I mean, don't worry about it," Dallea murmured, trying to sound nonchalant and failing. The longer he looked at her the more difficult it was for her to bite back her disdain at him reading her mind yet again.

Fortunately, he turned back to look at the painting she had temporarily forgotten. She took this opportunity to continue looking at him, until she mentally smacked herself upside the head and turned to look at the painting as well. They stared at it in silence.

"I've heard this story a thousand times," Loki said. She listened to him, allowing his words to broach her opinion on the portrait. "My father, against the brutal Fire Giant Surtr. He had an entire realm but it just wasn't enough, so he tried to take everything by force. After a ravaging defeat in Vanaheim," Loki paused, looking down at Dallea, "my father took the battle to him and slayed him in his own house."

He watched her looking at the canvas for a few moments. Her lower lip jut out in concentration as her eyes narrowed. She had to force herself to unclench her hands. While wiping them off absently, Dallea jumped at the sting that came from her bitten hand.

If she were alone she would have started examining it again. She looked up at Prince Loki, his closeness not helping the dismay rising in her throat. He had seen her reaction. He looked at her bitten hand for a long time before she couldn't take his scrutiny anymore and she hid it behind her back.

If he was surprised that she reacted in such a way, her only clue was his sudden change in demeanor. Curiosity fueled his voice and the extension of his hand. "Can I see it?"

She bit her tongue, hard. Once he outright asked her, she didn't have a choice anymore and he knew it. Maybe her discontent showed and maybe he saw it. Dallea hoped he did. She extended her hand towards him and trained her gaze on the motion. He held it like she was made of glass, looking at it from one angle then another. Nerves buzzing, she swallowed thickly and still he didn't look up from her palm.

She didn't know why he was looking so intently. There was nothing there, the doctors had said as much.

He finally tore his eyes away, intrigued. His expression was as open as Dallea had ever seen since she remet him. "When did this happen?"

Something erupted in her stomach, but her mouth twisted into a frown anyway. "There's nothing there-"

"Don't play stupid," Loki said, his voice firm. Dallea blinked owlishly. "Where did this come from?"

She looked at him for a few seconds, considering one eye, then the next. She finally whispered, almost inaudibly; "Muspelheim."

"Muspelheim?" he repeated, squinting at her. She wasn't lying. He looked down at her palm once more. His stoicism was killing her.

"What? What is it?" she whispered.

She could tell he chose his words carefully. "It's as if…"

Trailing off even as Dallea hung to every meaningless word, he decided to instead raise his other hand. It stroked the outside of her hand gently and Dallea's breath caught in her throat.

He brought his index finger to the centre of her palm and she yanked her hand away. His actual touch was feather-light, but as soon as his skin touched hers, pain shot up her arm that was so sudden and intense it caused her knees to tremble.

The instant she had reclaimed her arm, the painting cascaded to the floor. Its frame broke when it reached the ground, and the deafening _crack_ caused Dallea to flinch terribly.

Loki had his gaze glued to the broken canvas as it slid to a shuddering halt. Fear was ablaze in Dallea's eyes. In turn, she turned to watched him. Her breathing was ragged and she could do nothing but wait for him to react. His expression was blank.

Finally he looked at her. The air rushed out of her lungs. The raw skepticism and curiosity in his eyes combined with the uneasiness raging within her mind made her want to keel over.

Not physically able to keep his gaze for a second longer, she took a step backward and used it to turn herself around. From there she ran down the hallway, cradling her hand all the while. She didn't dare look back.

* * *

A volcanic eruption is nothing to bat an eye at when in Muspelheim. Yet there was one in particular that groaned and shook the landscape for an unreasonably long time. There was no smoke. No debris.

Deep within the volcano, in a crevice carved by giants who weren't bothered by the heat, the King of Muspelheim paced. It was a lumbering motion, wherein he dragged his stone feet across the ground, eyes trained at the centre of the volcano. A thin but incredibly resilient window stood between the King and the bubbling lava.

This forge had been made years ago, by Kings much more ambitious than he, who had paid for their riskiness with most of the forge collapsing under the pressure of a volcanic eruption. However, when the machinery was removed, the King found it to be a fairly convenient prison cell. He could have the lava drained into the river, but he better enjoyed this:

A shadowy figure - a gust, maybe - rammed itself against the window over and over before disappearing back into the lava. The rocks trembled slightly, causing a grin to appear on the King's face. He knew this shadow of a lifeform. He knew as soon as it escaped from that Elf's bracelet. It pressed up against the glass again.

"Struggle," the King gloated. "You're weak. You cannot break it."

The gust hissed and whined sounds that were incomprehensible to any onlooker. It spoke in a language only known by the King, who shook his head and stopped pacing. The shadow was pressed fully against the glass, the closest thing to begging it could manage.

"Odin would be a fool to attack us," the King said. "You lie."

The volcano groaned and shuddered. The gust began to swirl into a mesmerizing pattern, but the King turned away.

"You're not welcome here," the King said, finality in his voice. "Rot."

The King ignored the gust as it began to slam against the window again, over and over. The sound continued even after he disappeared into an underground tunnel, leaving the furious screaming of the gust far behind him.

* * *

Dallea hadn't wanted to go to dinner, why would she want to go to breakfast? The only reason she had slunk out of her room was that it was almost midday and she hoped, for the sake of her growling stomach, that Loki had already eaten so she wouldn't have to suffer through him glancing at her questioningly every five seconds, again.

Luck was on her side; Fandral was the only recognizable face at the table. Inviting herself to sit beside him, Dallea fell into yet another loop of asking how someones morning was, then staring at the table until they asked her about Vanaheim. That was until the other warriors beckoned him away, of course. Then she was by herself, free to look out the window and rip apart her bread before putting it in her mouth.

She didn't know when the man to her left had started to stare, but once she noticed, it was impossible to pretend he wasn't there. Dallea shifted uncomfortably, instinctively covering her ears with her hair and tucking in her elbows. Eyes on her plate. No sudden moves.

He shifted towards her and she stopped chewing to focus all of her attention on him. There was no malicious intent in his eyes, but Dallea equated the type of smile on his face with one she had seen only too often.

His tone of voice was light and disbelieving. "You're an elf."

Dallea wished she could disappear. Swallowing thickly, she resigned to give a short nod and hoped he moved along.

"An actual elf?" he whispered, looking at her as if she were a shiny present. She looked to the side, but there was no one that she recognized. The man was closer when she looked back, causing her to jump. "From Alfheim? I thought you weren't allowed to leave?"

Under the weight of his expectant staring, she found herself obligated to speak. "We can leave whenever, some just like to…"

"But is it like a long process?" the man said, gesturing vaguely with his hand. "Like, you have to ask your leader … you have one, right?"

No matter how many times she heard it, it dumbfounded her every time. The hand that was about to place more bread in her mouth dropped back to her plate slowly. "Yes, of course."

"I was just wondering!" the man threw his hands in the air, wide eyed and innocent. "I've heard you're very secluded and tribal." Dallea's eyebrows furrowed. "You know, like close to nature and not materialistic. Which is fantastic, by the way…"

Dallea looked ahead, pursing her lips. Before she do anything more, someone sat directly to her right, placing themselves between Dallea and the man. That someone was so close her that their legs were touching, effectively capturing all of her attention.

The first thing Dallea noticed about them was a bright smile and warm brown eyes that instantly made her feel at ease. The next thing she noticed was that the person was a woman with long red hair; the same woman who had threatened Eir. Dallea tensed again. The woman disregarded Dallea's discomfort.

"I've been looking for you everywhere!" she said, wagging her finger at Dallea. "You told me you'd meet me by the north entrance about an hour ago."

Dallea stared at the woman blankly. Her instinct to apologize was stopped by her confusion. "I think you have the wrong…"

"Time?" the woman said quickly, widening her eyes and breaking her persona for a second to nod her head towards the exit. "Maybe I was a bit early. Anyway, we have to get going. Come along."

Oh Norns. The colour in Dallea's face ebbed away as her mind turned to the worst. The woman had found out that Dallea had been eavesdropping, but was nice enough to take her away before calling her out on it … for some reason.

Whatever the woman was thinking, Dallea didn't see any way out of her situation. She stood when the woman stood, and they walked towards the exit in step with each other. To add to Dallea's discomfort, the woman laced her arm around Dallea's. Probably to make sure she couldn't run away.

They walked through the dining hall doors arm in arm, and continued until they rounded a corner. Finally, the woman released Dallea, and turned to her.

Dallea expected rage, but she received the same warm smile as before. "I didn't mean to startle you. It just looked like you wanted to get out of there."

Dallea's mouth parted slightly. She searched the woman's face for any hidden anger, but found none. She blinked, then said dumbly: "Yeah. I did."

"Well, you're welcome," the woman said, still grinning. "I'm Sigyn. And you are?"

"Dallea," she replied, extending a hand for Sigyn to shake. Sigyn wavered at the stiffness in Dallea's shoulders, unbeknownst to Sigyn caused by lingering guilt from eavesdropping. She took her hand nonetheless, and then tilted her head.

"Dallea? Dallea Janiadottir? Daughter of Jania the singer?" Sigyn asked curiously. Dallea flexed her free hand to stop it from reflexively clenching into a fist.

"The one and only," Dallea said with a forced smile. Sigyn nodded, her eyes narrowing with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Huh. I heard you were in the castle. Wasn't the King looking for you?"

Dallea released Sigyn's hand and shrugged, nurturing annoyance from the mention of her mother. "I don't know what for. Seems everything's been sorted out already."

Sigyn nodded, dipping the corners of her mouth down for a second before resuming her smile to express agreement. She gave Dallea a once-over then sighed, glancing down the hallway. When she looked back at Dallea, her expression was cheery.

"Well, I was just heading to the market to pick up a few things. Want to come?" Sigyn offered, jerking her thumb down the hall where she had been leading Dallea before. "You can tell me all about what it's like to be Jania's daughter. I've always loved her singing."

There wasn't anything Dallea would detest doing more than that. She raised her eyebrows and looked away from Sigyn, back towards the dining hall. Catching Dallea's resentful sigh, Sigyn added:

"Or, you could tell me about how awful it is." Dallea looked back at her, the suggestion still not very appealing.

"I …" Dallea licked her lips but didn't have anything nice to say, so she stayed silent. Sigyn cocked an eyebrow.

"You have other plans for today?" she asked. Dallea bit the inside of her cheek before shaking her head.

Sigyn smiled brightly and linked her arm with Dallea's, squeezing it slightly while starting to guide her away from the dining room. "Come on, it's a beautiful day."

* * *

Sigyn wasn't wrong, Dallea had to admit; the sun was shining and a cool breeze swept through the marketplace, making bells chime. When they first stepped off the lakeside path and stepped into the stone streets lined with carts and shops, Sigyn was already bored of talking about Jania. The conversation quickly turned into Sigyn pointing out vendors and praising them or cautioning Dallea of their unfair bargaining.

"She's a sweetheart," Sigyn said, leaning into Dallea and keeping her voice low. The woman in question swept dust off her jewelry display and sent Sigyn an amicable wave. Sigyn reciprocated with a smile and a wave of her own before tightening her grip on Dallea's arm. "But all her 'jewels' are made of rubbish."

"Really?" Dallea said, blinking in surprise. They glinted beautifully in the afternoon sun.

"Oh yes," Sigyn nodded before pointing at Dallea's bracelet. "See, those are real gems. They aren't so shiny. Real ones have been worn down, and fake ones seem too perfect."

"How do you know?" Dallea asked, looking from her bracelets to the jewels with this enthralling new information.

"My grandfather was a jeweler," Sigyn said proudly. "He taught me a lot. I thought I was going to take over his business …" she drifted off and smiled before Dallea could see her bitter expression. "Anyway, people only buy things from her if they want to look nice without paying proper money. Ask anyone."

Dallea found out quickly that Sigyn had no problem doing just that; stopping at numerous shops just to talk to the owners for a second, swapping gossip, then moving on without buying anything. To her credit, she always introduced Dallea to the people she spoke to, and even tried to rope her into the gossip. It was brand new, and Dallea found herself enjoying it more as the day went on.

"Well, when did she last see him?" Sigyn asked a middle-aged fruit vendor as she leaned on his counter. Dallea stood beside her, stepping out of the way as a customer bustled forward and dropped some coins on said counter.

The vendor placed the fruit in a bag while giving Sigyn a look. "This morning."

Sigyn's mouth dropped open, and she looked at Dallea, who looked equally as shocked. Funny, how quickly she learned the caricatures of these people. The woman they spoke of, for instance, was married with children but couldn't resist tall and handsome strangers.

"You're kidding," Sigyn said, mouth permanently ajar.

"Norns, I wish, huh?" the vendor tsked, his voice a deep growl. "Can't deal with her coming in and crying no more. Something about guilt and vows and blah blah."

"Why doesn't she just leave her husband?" Dallea asked, puzzled. Sigyn looked at her strangely. The vendor let out a humourless laugh while bidding his customer goodbye. He then turned to Dallea, resting his elbows on the counter.

"Easy said, not so easy done," he said. "Husband keeps a roof over her head, that's a damn good incentive to stay."

"I guess," Dallea said. Sigyn was still looking at her, something unreadable on her face. "But if she wants to be with someone else…"

"She don't want to be with nobody she knows," he said, forehead creasing as he gave Dallea a knowing look. "She's addicted to chasing her next moment, yeah? Living life without feeling a damn thing. But that's life; no one asked for it."

That bothered Dallea a lot more than her expression showed. Sigyn wasn't looking at her anymore, instead studying the floor. The vendor shrugged and stood to his full height.

"You'll get it soon enough. Stuck with settling to survive," he said. A smile broke his solemn expression. "Enough blues. Run along. I spotted some new threads a few blocks down if you're interested, Sigyn."

She looked up and smiled, swallowing whatever emotion had made her look so dreary before. She once again looped her arm through Dallea's and bid the vendor farewell.

Once they were back out on the street, Sigyn sent Dallea a hard look. "You need to watch what you say."

"Pardon?" Dallea said, shrinking under the anger writhing in Sigyn's eyes.

"You can't just _say_ whatever you think," Sigyn said, never breaking eye contact with Dallea even as they made their way down the street. "It's not your business to tell people what to do."

"I didn't mean any disrespect," Dallea responded. If she didn't know any better, she swore she struck a personal cord with Sigyn. She kept that train of thought to herself.

"No, of course you didn't," Sigyn said, looking ahead. "Just … don't comment. It isn't appropriate."

Dallea had nothing to say, so she stayed silent. That tense silence permeated until Sigyn calmed down a few blocks later.

"You know how to sew, right?" Dallea looked and saw Sigyn had that friendly glint in her eye once more.

"Not well," Dallea replied. She was going to add that she hadn't in a long time, but bit her tongue remembering what she had just been told.

"Well, have you ever tried embroidery?" Sigyn asked, tugging Dallea's arm and pulling her into a petite little shop at the corner of the street.

"No," Dallea said, hanging back this time when Sigyn greeted the store owner. She wriggled out of Sigyn's grip and resigned to browsing a row of fabrics. She ducked into a crowded aisle with string on one side and fabric on the other. Some textures she felt were smooth enough to make her eyes brighten. Others were rough and reminded her of the fabrics in her mask. She moved past them quickly.

"There you are," Sigyn said, stepping in front of Dallea. She held a small basket, filled with an assortment of things, including needles and threads. "Did you find anything you like?"

Dallea folded her hands in front of her and tossed a look over her shoulder, down the aisle she just strolled down. "A few."

Sigyn smiled, oblivious to Dallea's flat tone. "Show me?"

Dallea looked at her for a moment before pointing one assured finger toward a blue fabric to her right. "This one's nice."

"It is," Sigyn said, running her fingers over it before pulling out sizable piece and adding it to her basket before making her way to the counter. Dallea followed close by, squinting at Sigyn's basket. There were no other pieces of fabric.

Sigyn explained the measurements of the fabric she needed to the woman. They chattered on as Dallea wrapped a stray piece of thread around her finger and tied a knot, deep in thought. She'd never bought fabric before. Any dresses she wore as a child were made for her by professional seamstresses.

Soon enough Sigyn and Dallea were back on the street, and the smell of fresh meals wafted through the air. Sigyn resumed her place at Dallea's side, arms intertwined. "It's almost dinner. We'll have better luck just going back to the castle to eat."

Dallea looked at a butcher stepping out of his shop and wiping his face with a rag before waving it at Sigyn as they passed. She said nothing.

"Are you hungry?" Sigyn asked, shaking Dallea's arm slightly.

"No," Dallea said. "Just a bit tired."

"I know," Sigyn said, nodding and looking ahead as well. "It's a lot to take in. Sorry, I didn't mean to overwhelm you."

Dallea didn't know if she was being difficult, or if Sigyn was ignoring her reproach. Either way, it was a considerable walk back to the palace, so she thought it better to swallow her discontent than sulk any longer.

So when Sigyn started filling the silence with more gossip, Dallea nodded along and reacted appropriately to every twist and turn. They left the marketplace and started down the path that gave the lake a wide berth; the long way back to the palace.

"And that whole business with the King a few days ago," Sigyn was saying, nudging Dallea with her basket to drag her out of her daze. "When he was looking for you. Now half the kingdom knows what all the fuss was about, thanks to that loudmouth Healer …"

"What?" Dallea blurted, rounding on Sigyn and stopping them both in their tracks. "You know what happened?"

Sigyn adjusted her basket and shrugged. "Well, rumours."

Dallea waited for Sigyn to continue with an intense gaze. Sigyn looked at her curiously but complied.

"Apparently something broke into the castle," Sigyn said, watching as Dallea's face contorted with disbelief then fear. "Past Heimdall, past the guards, and made an attempt on the King's life."

Mouth falling open, Dallea took a second to touch her forehead before gesturing it toward Sigyn. "Then what? They captured it, right?"

"No," Sigyn said, shaking her head to emphasize her words. The colour seeped out of Dallea's expression as she sat back on her heels. "It escape out of the Healing Ward."

After a few moments of watching Dallea's internal breakdown, Sigyn touched her arm gently, moving it up to her shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

"Those are rumours. They came from a _very_ unreliable source," she assured. Dallea looked up at her and so she continued. "That healer Eir. Who knows what that woman would say for attention."

Dallea squinted at Sigyn but said nothing. That didn't seem right. However she slackened her reprieve, remembering the vehemence she had overheard Sigyn direct at Eir. Just like when she witnessed it the first time, curiosity came over common decency.

"Why do you hate her so much?" As soon as Dallea uttered those words, the change in Sigyn was instantaneous. Her back straightened and she gave Dallea an ugly glare. Dallea took a half step backward, away from the heat of anger that radiated off of Sigyn. And Dallea had thought she was cross before; it was nothing compared to the reality in front of her.

"Dallea Janiadottir?" A voice from behind them saved Dallea from witnessing Sigyn boil over and explode. Dallea spun around, jumpy but relieved. A royal guard was marching toward them with no reinforcements, coming from the marketplace instead of the palace. Dallea kept her eyes glued on him, but he repeated her name again, until she spoke.

"That is me," Dallea said. "How may I help you?"

The guard sidled up to the two women and stood to attention. "The Queen has asked me to escort you to her study immediately."

Dallea's heart sank. Out of the cooking pot and into the royal chambers. She turned to glance at Sigyn, who nodded at the guard with no trace of the fury she hosted only moments before. She looked at Dallea with a smile.

"Well, thank you for spending the day with me," Sigyn said, stepping closer to her, and allowing the basket to slip from her arm and into her hand. She then presented it to Dallea. "These are for you. I was going to ask if you wanted to learn embroidery, but I guess that will have to wait."

Dallea looked at Sigyn and placed her hand over her heart, momentarily lost in the gesture. "That's so kind of you."

Sigyn gave her a closed lipped smile and shook the basket, indicating that Dallea should take it. "It's hard to survive in Asgard without any friends."

Dallea smiled back at her, not knowing why she suddenly felt like crying. She looked at the basket, filled with everything Dallea presumed a beginner would need. The guard began to turn away and Dallea followed him down the path that she and Sigyn were travelling down. Sigyn, for some reason, decided to diverge from the path and amble towards the lake, only looking up to wave goodbye. Dallea glanced over her shoulder just in time to return the gesture and then faced forward again. For the rest of the walk, she held her chin a little higher.

* * *

The guard pointed her down the hall that lead to the study and offered to hold her basket until she came out. The assurance that she would, in fact, come out made her less nervous to walk down the short corridor alone.

With three loud raps on the door alerting the Queen of her presence, she took the next few moments to remind herself to under no circumstances touch her injured-but-not-injured hand.

The Queen called for her to enter. She obliged, pushing the heavy door open and then closing it behind her before looking up to survey the room. The floor was a beautiful golden colour and flowers lined the walls. That was all she absorbed of her surroundings before the Queen captured her attention. The Queen and …

"For Yggdrasil's sake," Dallea breathed, making eye contact with the youngest prince of Asgard and then immediately ripping her eyes away to stare at the Queen. Panic must have reflected in her eyes, because Frigga stepped forward with an encouraging smile.

"You aren't in any trouble, child," she said, curling her outstretched hand into her chest in a beckoning motion. "Come, Loki and I just wish to speak with you."

Dallea took a second to gauge Loki's relaxed shoulders and hands motionless by his sides before moving closer to the Queen. Frigga smiled brighter and touched Dallea's back soothingly when she was close enough. When she was standing directly between the Queen and her son, Frigga extended a hand to stop her from moving any further.

Frigga's smile melted into a pensive line. She looked at Dallea carefully. "My son told me there is something wrong with your hand."

Before Dallea could turn and glare at Loki, Frigga spoke again. "As I understand it, the healers didn't find anything physically wrong, but Loki is worried there may be something else at play." Dallea's eyebrows knit together. What else … and Loki was worried? She cleared her throat and tilted her head, thankful he couldn't see her face. Frigga's frown deepened. Loki and her obviously spoke about this at length before she was summoned. "Something beyond the physical realm."

Frigga allowed her words to settle until Dallea's eyes widened with understanding. Much like Loki had the day before, Frigga extended her hand, palm skyward.

"May I see it?" she asked, and Dallea nodded, but hesitated before resting her hand atop the Queen's. Frigga looked at it with careful concentration. Forcing herself to breathe evenly, Dallea watched the Queen's eyes glaze over. Loki appeared on her left side, which made keeping calm even more difficult. Seconds, then minutes passed.

Frigga looked up. Dallea could see her reflection in the Queen's dilated pupils. Mouth opening, Frigga glanced to her son, as if he knew the words she needed to say.

"What?" Dallea begged. "Please, what is it?"

Loki added his fingers to the jumble, cradling Dallea's hand as he moved it away from Frigga's. He pivoted so him and Dallea were facing one another head on. An idea to pull away vanished as quickly as it appeared in her mind. She looked up at his face, eyes wide and desperate. Loki glanced up from their hands to give her a nod and to jut his chin toward the space between them.

"Look," he whispered, voice filled with wonder.

Frigga stayed silent and so Dallea had no choice but to buy into his reassuring expression. She looked down.

His hands were cold before, but they now were warm and glowing with magic. And her hand …

She looked back up at him, expecting a mischievous smirk. Instead, he smiled at her with unabashed warmth. Whipping her head to look at the Queen, she found that Frigga had that same comforting smile.

With her initial disbelief ebbing away, Dallea was left with eyes larger than any moon. She forced herself to look down again.

Just like before, she saw her hand swaddled by two of Loki's, glowing with magic of its own. The magic within her palm contrasted with his; hers was divinely white while his was a deep green. She dared to move her hand and when she did, she saw that same bright white on her knuckles.

In the next few moments, she thought she might throw up. What actually bubbled out of her throat was a loud, hysterical laugh. She used her other hand to squeeze her first all while flexing her glowing fingers. A childish smile split her face and it made Loki's grow when she finally tore her eyes away.

Dallea looked to Frigga, then, and the Queen was sitting back on her heels. She was swallowing her concerns to allow this moment of excitement to continue, and put on a mask of jubilation.

"Congratulations, my child," Frigga smiled, staying a pace away as her son continued to carefully hold her hand. "You have magic."


	9. Snatch Defeat from the Jaws of Victory

_Chapter 9:_

 _Snatching Defeat From the Jaws of Victory_

* * *

Still not wanting to dampen the excitement, Frigga sent Dallea off to dinner before Loki could dive into the less-than-pleasant drawbacks. Loki was supposed to escort her, but chose to stay with his mother. Dallea's last glance of the room as she closed the door behind her was of him ducking his head and whispering earnestly to his mother.

Dallea shook off the frown she had seen grace Frigga's features. Instead, she looked down at her hand with a newfound appreciation.

Magic! She had _magic_!

She was so wrapped up in her giddiness that she walked right past the guard at the end of the hallway.

"Lady Dallea?" the guard called, startling her. He held up her basket and she placed a hand on her chest, sucking in a breath of relief.

"For Yggdrasil's sake," Dallea smiled. She floated over to the guard and smoothly looped her arm through the handle. "I forgot. Thank you so very much! What would I do without you?"

Humming, she spun around and waltzed away. The guard blankly stared after her until she rounded a corner. Then he cleared his throat and stiffly marched the same way, shaking off any semblance of a blush.

To Dallea, Asgard awakened nostalgia but was still buried in her memories. She knew the path the guard had led her down passed by her room so instead of braving the corridors and risking getting lost, she retired for the day.

She delicately placed the basket on an end table near the door. Before she could turn away, curiosity overcame her. She stepped up to the basket and removed the blue fabric to see the other contents. Three needles and three different coloured strings; silver, white, and blue. Dallea picked up the silver string, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth. An idea that included searching for Sigyn crossed her mind.

Considering the time, Sigyn was probably eating dinner in the dining hall. Dallea not only didn't feel like eating, but her limbs were restless. She put the thread away and wandered further into her room.

When Dallea had first looked upon it in all its lavish glory, she had rested her head against the door, exasperated. Frigga obviously hadn't been aware that Dallea had been disowned when she cleared a room for her and Dallea didn't have the heart to explain to the servant she had no claim to wealth anymore.

Granted, she had a large room in Vanaheim, but that was _different_. She earned her seniority. She didn't show up and get a massive bed and a balcony just because she grew up with those things.

The longer she thought about it, the more she felt out of place here.

She shook her head violently. No, this was a happy moment for her. The wardrobe had gone untouched, apart from her one dirty dress placed haphazardly at its feet. Without sparing it a glance, she walked past it to her bags, positioned dutifully by the bathroom door.

From the biggest one she pulled out a book she hadn't read in forever. She placed it on the floor and continued rummaging until she pinched a leather-bound notebook. Victorious, she rose to her feet and opened the first page. Tiny but impeccably neat music notes were scrawled across it.

" _Ballad of the Broken_ ," Dallea read the top of the page, pulling a face. "No thank you."

She flipped until she happened across a piece named. _A Valkyrie's Wing._ Having been wandering aimlessly around her room, she stood still to dramatically clear her throat.

With a hand on her lower stomach, she dared to open her mouth. From deep within her diaphragm came a low G note, loud enough for her to wince when her voice cracked.

"Yggdrasil help me," Dallea sighed, tilting her head and deciding to recite a few warm up exercises before she tried again.

The sun had long since set and finally she was able to stumble her way through the song. Her mother would have cried hearing her fail so miserably, but Dallea closed her eyes and listened to herself sing a ballad that reflected the happiness still buzzing in her chest.

With a final sweep of her hand to an imaginary audience while shouting a note she could barely reach, Dallea ended the song. She fell on the bed, too exhausted to do anything but shut her eyes with a dying grin on her lips.

* * *

From deep within the core of the volcano came an unsettling sound; a shriek and an undercurrent of groaning rubble. It was getting louder.

The King stepped into the light emitted by the lava, which was dimmed slightly by the Gust pressed up against the window of its prison. As the King ventured closer, he noticed the Gust was swirling slowly. Its calmness was infuriating.

It crooned at him, the sound making the floor tremble uneasily. The King's ember eyes narrowed and his hackles raised.

"Vanaheim has no such relic," he growled. His head jerked to the side. "Liar."

The Gust lazily tapped against the window, the patterns it traced making the King dizzy. Pebbles on the ground jumped when the Gust whined again. The noise was more prolonged than the previous.

The King tore his eyes away and pawed at his breastplate. He shook his head and refused to look at his prisoner: "How convenient, that you're the only one who can reach it."

The Gust started speaking its strange language again, but was cut off by the now very agitated King.

"Enough! How noble you are is judged by the ones you threw into poverty," the King said before putting his hands behind his back and fixing the Gust with a glare dripping in venom. "And they don't want you here. Even as a prisoner."

The Gust dissipated briefly, and the King smiled coldly at its anger.

"You may go to Vanaheim. You may go wherever you wish," the King said, already turning away. "But you are weak and a fool. And if you return, I will not hesitate to destroy you."

At the edge of the light, the King stopped dead in his tracks upon hearing the Gust's final words. Mocking and laced with contempt all at once, the King felt his pride swell until it was his turn to tremble with rage.

"I could wipe you out of existence if I wanted to," he said with tense shoulders. "I needn't prove anything to you…"

The King still didn't turned around. He waited for another quip. Another jab at his pride, another sing-song taunt that he was too frightened to fight. Instead came a rumble from within the volcano. He turned just in time to see a spider web of cracks appear on the window.

Something that sounded eerily akin to laughter intertwined with the roar of the volcano as it exploded, spewing lava and molten rock for miles. The Gust turned back for a second, as it spiralled into the sky, to see half of the volcano collapse in on itself. It twirled in delight and disappeared into the forever-cloudy sky.

* * *

Dallea ate breakfast early. Her body was too excited to sleep and woke her with the sun. She wasn't sure what she was going to _do_ with her day, however. Remembering how disgruntled Thor had been when she accompanied them to Muspelheim made her dread training, lest she run into him. In the present, she stood from her spot in the banquet hall winced at the memory. Her mind was everywhere but the door she was approaching. She might have ran right into it had someone not already been opening it from the other side.

"Oh." The other person exclaimed, jolting Dallea to attention and causing her to take a step back. Prince Loki laughed at her dazed expression. "Did someone open doors _for_ you in Vanaheim?"

Instead of looking down or mumbling something incoherent, she surprised him by offering a brilliant smile. Any pretense of embarrassment was drowned out by how her mood improved upon seeing him.

"Good morning," she said, curtseying slightly. She promptly straightened when his only reply was to stand still, looking terribly confused. "Sorry, forgot. I don't have to do that. How are you?"

Loki squinted, looking her over once before deciding that the person in front of him was, in fact, Dallea. "I'm ...fine."

"Good!" Dallea said, still smiling. "That's good."

"What are you doing?" Loki asked, before realizing they were in the middle of the doorway still. "Here, come with me."

"Okay," Dallea said, her voice light.

Loki placed a hand on her upper back to steer her away from the stream of people entering the banquet hall. They moved _away_ from it, despite Loki not eating anything and the thought made Dallea falter for a second.

"Are you not hungry?" Dallea asked. The question distracted him enough to look away from navigating them through the stream of people.

"What?" He examined her face.. Someone bumped into his shoulder and he muttered something under his breath. With a shake of his head,he said: "No. Just … here, down here."

When Loki and Dallea ducked into a more secluded corridor and were finally free from the constantly jostling, he rounded on her and crossed his arms.

"What's wrong with you?" he demanded.

"What? Nothing," Dallea said softly, her small smile now fueled by uncertainty. "I'm just … happy to see you."

"Why?" he asked curtly. His arms unfolded and his cautious expression started to fade.

"Because …" Dallea started then sighed and thought better of herself. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I was excited because of … you know."

He watched her flex her fingers, then flip her hand over to examine the other side. He swallowed and glanced to the side, allowing himself a second to regroup his thoughts before looking at her again. With knit eyebrows, she was already considering him.

"Well," he said, studying her outstretched hand. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

When his eyes focused on hers again, Dallea noted his uneven smile and the way he analyzed every aspect of her face. A silent apology? Or perhaps Dallea was seeing what she wanted to see.

She dared to offer him a pursed lip smile. He copied the motion then jerked his head further down the corridor. "So what do you say?"

Whether she laughed out of hysteric excitement or anxiety was beyond him. In any case, they started down the hall together.

A few moments passed, which he took to look her over once more. "I see you've ridden yourself of that servant's uniform."

Dallea looked down at herself, as if realizing this for the first time. Her hand drifted to her neckline, which was wider than her collarbones and low enough to just barely be modest.

"What?" Loki said, a teasing smile on his lips. "Do you miss it?"

Dallea tilted her head and sent him a good-humoured glare. "No. I'm just not sure this is my colour."

To underline her words she rubbed the dark violet fabric of her sleeve between her fingers. Loki blew air out of his nose instead of commenting. Naturally, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and she turned to him pleadingly.

"I mean no disrespect. The dress is beautiful, please don't think I don't appreciate you and your mother letting me borrow it…" Dallea said. Loki waved his hand to silence her before she could start crying or something.

"I know what you meant," Loki said flatly, sounding bored. Dallea's gaze returned to the hall in front of them. Her ears reddened and she swept a lock of hair over them so he wouldn't see her take offence to his words. He thought she … didn't look good in the dress? "And the dress is yours to keep. Mother said she'll have more sent in the next few days when she figures out your size. You should probably see her about that yourself."

"That's very kind," Dallea mumbled. Loki pointed down the hallway they were to travel down before they reached it so Dallea wouldn't have to scramble. "Thank you for speaking with her."

Loki nodded once, and then they lapsed into silence.

After a number of turns that Dallea couldn't retrace, they stepped onto a staircase that lead to gigantic double doors.

Dallea ignored a spark of nervousness remembering the last time she and Loki had been in the library together. In the morning light, the rows and rows of bookshelves looked more welcoming; the burgundy walls had a chance to glow in the sunlight instead of make shadows.

Loki didn't wait for her when she took a moment to scan the room. He was making his way towards the study rooms near the leftmost corner and heard her following footsteps soon enough.

Once settled in a study room he frequented, the companionable silence gave way to something more tense. She fidgeted with uncertainty and he reclined in his chair easily. In the next few moments, where eye contact was met and then disconnected, more than a table separated them.

Instead of speaking, Loki pulled a red fruit out of his pocket and placed it on the wooden surface firmly. It was the size of his palm and the skin looked rough. She had seen it before but the name escaped her at that particular moment. Instantly Dallea stilled and looked from him, to the fruit, then back again.

"How much do you know about magic?"

Dallea swallowed hard. He folded his arms and watched her with an unnerving amount of intensity.

"Almost nothing," she admitted. He nodded encouragingly. She straightened. "Some people have it, some don't. It manifests in a thing or a person."

Loki grinned. "That doesn't sound like nothing."

Dallea pursed her lips and looked to her hands, splayed on the table. Her bitten hand twitched, the jolts of pain fleeting but present.

"Where did you learn that?"

She took a second to respond. "The Mages of Vanaheim."

Seeing her fingertips press into the table, anticipating an onslaught of questions, he instead leaned forward and rest his elbows on the surface. She looked up warily.

"Did you read much in Vanaheim?" he asked innocently.

Blinking once, then twice, her shoulders slumped. "When I had the time."

"What did you like to read about?" he asked, tracing the curvature of the fruit with his finger. Dallea's eyes never left his face.

"Just … stories," Dallea said, bewilderment clear in her voice. Partly because of the change in topic, but mostly because of something Dallea couldn't quite articulate. Thus far he looked at her and assumed his answer. Why was he asking all of a sudden?

"Really?" Loki said, looking at her with genuine interest. "Like what?"

"Eddaic poetry and … whatever I could get my hands on," Dallea finished her sentence quickly. Her eyelids fluttered closed for a brief moment while she shook her head. When she opened them she regarded the Prince, slightly irritated. "Why are you asking me this? You said you wanted to …"

"I know," he said quickly. He looked down at the fruit, frowning. With a flick of his finger, it disappeared.

Dallea sat up quickly. "How did you do that?"

"Easy," Loki said, pointing at her with that same finger. The playfulness in his eyes helped her believe she wasn't being threatened. "You can't see it?"

Dallea looked down at where the fruit had been a second before. Nothing. A crease of impatience formed on her forehead. "No?"

"You're trying too hard," Loki said, leaning back in his seat.

"That doesn't make sense," Dallea said, looking back down at the place where the fruit was. "What am I supposed to do? Close my eyes?"

He chuckled until he saw her expression. "No, don't close your eyes. Just … trust me."

She resigned to give him no answer, instead raising her eyebrows and waiting for him to start doling out instructions.

He cocked his head again. "How is your Nanny? Do you still call her that?"

Opening and then closing her mouth, she pushed her confusion to the side in favour of indignation. "Yes, I do still call her that."

"I meant no disrespect," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. He seemed to be fine with how agitated she was. "How is she?"

Dallea sighed and then allowed her eyes to wander the room. One wall was covered in a beautiful gold tapestry. "She's dying."

Dallea watched him sit up out of the corner of her eye as she examined the black accents of the tapestry. A few quiet moments passed in which Dallea sat back against her chair.

"I'm sorry to hear that." She looked at him. All the teasing was gone, replaced by a solemn expression Dallea hoped was genuine. "Is there anything …"

"No," Dallea said, her voice shaky. "No, she's … too far gone."

He cast his gaze downward. She took this opportunity to hastily rub the dampness from her eyes. He waited until she composed herself to look back up.

Clearing her throat, a ghost of smile formed on her face. "She wanted me to come back to Asgard."

"Really?" he said, finding her smile contagious. Dallea nodded.

"She remembered you, too." Just as Dallea hoped, Loki's expression lit up. "She said that if you're anything like you were, Asgard's security should be tripled."

He laughed, then. Dallea did too. For the next few moments they fell back into their thoughts, recalling fond memories. Dallea's eyes drifted to his face, then to the fruit, then to his hands …

The fruit?

Eyes opening wider to ensure what she was seeing was real, Dallea leaned forward. The fruit was red and scaly, but slightly hazy, as if it was just a projection of the real thing. Loki noticed her intense staring.

"Did you ..?" Dallea asked, fixated on the fruit.

"No," Loki said. He waved his hand over the fruit and suddenly it was crystal-clear to see. Awed, Dallea met Loki's thoughtful expression and faltered. "I was going to try to get you to make it reappear."

She didn't know how to respond to that, so she waited for him to explain. Of course, he didn't. Instead, he ran his tongue over his teeth.

"What did you tell her?" Loki asked. "When she asked if I was anything like I once was?"

Dallea's throat constricted. The words on the tip of her tongue were an accumulation of a nagging fear she'd had ever since she remet him.

"That you're not," Dallea said quietly. She forced herself to keep eye contact with him. "You're different."

Was that a bad thing? Would they not get along anymore? Would that mean she would get sent back to Vanaheim? Dallea had already let those questions intrude her thoughts.

Loki nodded. That was the answer he was expecting and she found herself blinking far more quickly than usual.

"I don't know you anymore," Loki relented, unreadable as ever. Dallea bowed her head. Hearing him say those words hurt even though she was anticipating them. She felt the same; how nervous she was around him, how she assumed the worst. There was a stranger sitting across from her with a name she recognized.

She forced her jaw to unclench. She considered him slowly, then said: "I know."

His stare was vacantly studying the tapestry, now. Evidently, he didn't want to have the last word.

Dallea rubbed her hands together, ignoring the following pricks of discomfort. With a deep, steadying breath, she continued.

"I don't hate you," is what she said while standing. He looked at her thoughtfully. A rousing speech entered her mind. Something heartfelt about how he had been the best friend she ever had. Something completely overdone to the point of it sounding disingenuous. Instead she shrugged. "Thank you for spending time with me. Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

Something flickered in his eyes, but it passed too quickly for her to catch exactly what it was. There was a second of hesitation, where Dallea swore he was about to say something rude.

Instead he nodded once, then twice. The second time was more assured. He laced his hands together while his mouth quirked upward almost unnoticeably. "Of course."

A bright grin shattered her uncertainty. Taking her leave without another word, she caught one last glimpse of him taking a bite out of the fruit with a fading smile.

She closed the door and angled herself to go down the aisle leading to the exit. Blocking her path was a woman staring straight at her, unmoving.

"Dallea," the woman said. The loudness of the woman's voice combined with her initial panic of not being alone made Dallea freeze, watching every little move the woman made.

The woman wore a royal blue dress, but what caught Dallea's eye was the Queen's golden seal on her chest. It was pinned to attach a cloak over the left side of her body, much like how Skandi's women wore the crest of Vanaheim. Dallea relaxed, stepping away from the study room and toward the woman.

"Yes?"

As if her face was made of stone, the woman ignored Dallea's fidgeting hands and looked her over slowly. A twitch of the woman's eyes could be a hint at impatience or surprise, but Dallea couldn't decipher which.

"I have a message for you from the Queen," the woman said. Her voice was lowered considerably. "If you will follow me."

"Where are we going?" Dallea asked, not moving a muscle as the woman began her departure from the library.

"Out of earshot," the woman called, not bothering to turn around. Dallea glanced at the study room, wondering if Loki could hear their exchange. She followed the woman.

As soon as she stepped out of the library, the woman closed the doors behind her and placed a hand on a broadsword Dallea was acutely aware of. Dallea folded her hands in front of her torso to give the illusion of calm.

"My name is Hlín," the woman said, bowing her head slightly to Dallea. The longer she stood, the more Dallea recognized the woman's posture as relaxed and allowed herself to stop scrutinizing the woman's weapon.

"Nice to meet you," Dallea said, returning the gesture. "You evidently know me."

"Indeed," Hlín said. "I'm one of Queen Frigga's most trusted ladies in waiting."

Dallea flit her eyes to the side, but nodded her head politely. Was this the Queen's message?

Once again ignoring Dallea, she continued. "Although I am not myself blessed with magical abilities, I have been around it most of my life and I am well aware of how it functions."

Dallea inclined her head forward, masking her exasperation as interest. Hlín paused, finally offering a grimace that was supposed to be a smile.

"And so, for the foreseeable future, the Queen has asked me to watched over you and your new found abilities."

"What?" Dallea blurted, arms falling to her sides. After a heartbeat, she regained her senses as her fingers gently wrapped around her throat. "My apologies, but you … the Queen asked you to do what, sorry?"

"Watch over you," Hlín said with another nod of her head. Her eyes matched the colour of her dress and they suddenly took on an eerie quality against her dark skin. Seeing the unbridled disbelief on Dallea's face made her exhale loudly. "Not as if you were a child. I've heard many things about you. I am of the belief that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself."

"I don't understand," Dallea said, looking down to collect her scattered thoughts. "Then why would I need you to … watch me?"

Hlín sat back on her heels, pity taking hold of her expression. "They didn't tell you?"

"What? Didn't tell me what?" Dallea implored, heart sinking upon seeing Hlín was unable to meet her gaze.

"Of course he wouldn't tell you, would he?" Hlín said, her bitterness redirecting itself toward the youngest prince. "It's all tricks and showing off for him. Responsibility is for _everyone else_."

"Please, what are you talking about?" Dallea interrupted, distress making her wring her hands uselessly.

Hlín looked back up at Dallea with a graveness that made her feel even worse. "Magic is a skill much like speaking another language, Dallea. It's difficult, if not impossible, to learn it as an adult."

Respectfully, Hlín didn't break eye contact with Dallea as her heart broke in two. Dallea looked between Hlín's eyes, every ounce of excitement she had felt the past day evaporating in the blink of an eye.

"I'm sorry," Hlín offered. She debated giving Dallea a few more moments to digest this new information, but decided against it. "The reason the Queen wants me to watch over you is because since your magic is active and uncontrolled, it is dangerous to both you and others."

Dallea looked at Hlín meekly, her head shaking slightly. She mouthed something but no sound came out. _Dangerous_?

Hlín bit her tongue. Dallea looked down at her feet.

Hlín looked down as well. "I'm sorry."

* * *

 **Hlín is pronounced LEAN, believe it or not. I know I didn't. And Sigyn is pronounced SEE-GAN. But however you enunciated them in your head is probably better.**

 **Thanks for stopping by!**

 **WishUponADragon - You know I love you, right? Always? Forever? Let's make this movie**

 **Autobotavenger (I forgot to do it last chapter!) - You're an all around sweetheart, thank you! I'll be here till the end, have yourself a great day as well!**


	10. A Friend In Need Is A Friend Indeed

_Chapter 10:_

 _A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed_

* * *

When Dallea looked up again, Hlín was quietly making her way down the staircase, obviously not wanting to intrude any more than she already had. She jumped when Dallea called out her name.

"Wait." A curious expression adorned Dallea's face. "You said it's difficult."

Hlín breathed in slowly, hating the optimism in Dallea's voice. "Almost impossible."

Much to Hlín's dismay, Dallea hurried to close the space between them. When they were eye to eye once again, Hlín couldn't ignore her victorious expression. "Almost."

"It's impossible," Hlín affirmed, raising her eyebrows then descending down the staircase quickly. She sighed once more hearing Dallea fall into step beside her.

"That's not what you said," Dallea said, eyes probing her every move.

"I know," Hlín said, inwardly cursing herself. "But there isn't any point in hanging onto any ridiculous hope..."

"Has it ever happened before?" Dallea quizzed as they reached the bottom of the staircase. Hlín stopped abruptly, all but glaring at Dallea, her mouth a thin, unimpressed line. Dallea, in all her earnestly, wasn't swayed. "It has, hasn't it?"

Hlín groaned and then decided to continue marching along, anticipating and dreading the footfalls at her heels.

"Listen, I'm very sorry if I'm bothering you, but I just …" The footsteps died and against Hlín's better judgement she slowed to a stop as well. Spinning and seeing Dallea try her best not to look completely crestfallen while searching for the right words to say, Hlín gripped her sword until her knuckles went white. "Now that I know I have it, I can't ignore it. And for Yggdrasil's sake…"

"Language," Hlín warned.

"Sorry. I just think ignoring it and hoping I don't do anything wrong isn't … right. It's not right," Dallea said, trying to sound firm and failing.

Hlín shook her head. "You don't have to be afraid of yourself."

"I don't want to be," Dallea said. Hlín considered her for a long time.

"What do you propose you do, instead?" Hlín said, sounding defeated. "How are you to…"

"You said that you know magic," Dallea said, stepping closer to Hlín. She, in turn, held up her hands to halt that train of thought.

"I said that to assure you that I can help you if your magic gets out of control…"

"Why can't you help me control it, then?" Dallea asked, spreading her hands with a smile. Hlín groaned almost inaudibly and shifted from one leg to the other.

"You don't know what you're asking," Hlín warned, looking at Dallea from the corner of her eye.

"No, not really," Dallea admitted. The face Hlín made subsequently sent her scrambling for something reassuring to add. "But … but you said Frigga asked you to be with me anyway, right? In the meantime …"

Hlín refused to reply with anything except an arched brow. Dallea clasp her hands together, outright begging.

"Please? If it doesn't work and I'm wrong, I'll shut up. I'll admit that I can't do it, and stop," Dallea said, shaking her intertwined hands to show just how serious she was. Hlín considered her for a moment, fingers drumming on the hilt of her sword. Dallea swore they stood like that for years.

"I have some conditions," Hlín said. She raised one solitary finger to stop the excited smile on Dallea's face from growing. "One, do not try to do anything on your own. If you want to practice, I have to be there with you."

Dallea scrunched her face in an attempted somber way. However, her excitement leaked through the way she rocked back on her heels only to sway forward again.

"Two, I've no idea how many people you have already told about your gifts, but tell no one else," Hlín said. Dallea nodded, but frowned. "Simply because some people see magic as an easy way out of any situation. You do not have the skill to help them, nor is it your responsibility to."

Hlín's voice was so matter of fact, Dallea found herself agreeing without taking any offence.

"Finally," Hlín said, eyes burning. "Do not, under any circumstances, take magical advice from Prince Loki."

"What?" Dallea interrupted, shocked by not only by her words, but disdain she housed as well. "Why not?"

"He uses magic like he uses people; constantly and with no good intention," Hlín explained. "As you probably already know, he cares more about showing off then showing how to do things the correct way."

Maybe, but Dallea didn't sense any ill intention when she was with him today, not like she had the first night she arrived. Or perhaps he had just became better at hiding it? With a sigh, Dallea nodded.

Hlín bowed her head, clearly satisfied with Dallea's response. "If you can do those things for me, then I, to the best of my ability, will try to help you control your magic. I refuse to promise that anything will become of it."

Pushing her restlessness the side, Dallea allowed a grin to split her face. She took a few hesitant steps closer to Hlín, in her mind the closeness making her next words more sincere.

"Thank you, Hlín," Dallea said, her smile becoming lopsided for a second. "And it is very nice to meet you."

Hlín gave an acknowledging nod and Dallea brushed past her, continuing down the hall Hlín lead her down. With a curious expression, Hlín watched Dallea walk a good distance away before slowing to a stop. She looked to the left, then to the right. Since Dallea wasn't looking directly at her, Hlín dared to smile.

"Would you like to walk with me to the banquet hall?" Hlín called. Dallea turned back around, a sheepish grin on her face.

"Yes, please."

* * *

"I wish my hand was as steady as yours." Face resting on her fist, Sigyn watched Dallea carefully pull the string through two sheets of fabric with a small smile. "When's the last time you did this, again?"

Dallea stopped threading for a moment to blush. She shifted in her seat and Sigyn's grin widened. "Um … five years ago? I think."

"Oh yeah? With what?" Sigyn asked, ignoring her own sewing in favour of staring at Dallea straighten the blue material she was working on.

Dallea spent most of her afternoon with Sigyn and somehow she had only explained the surface level of her life in Vanaheim. She was a warrior. She knew Queen Skandi quite well. The rest of their time was taken up by measuring Dallea and Sigyn reteaching her some of the basics. Dallea welcomed the lack of excitement graciously; her morning had been hectic enough.

"I …" Dallea started, but when she looked at Sigyn, she found the words refusing to come out. So much for mundane. Uneasiness washed over her; what if she didn't understand? What if Dallea explained it wrong?

"What's wrong?" Sigyn asked. She cocked her head to the side, the concern on her face giving Dallea an inkling of confidence.

"Well, when I was in Vanaheim, I wore a mask," Dallea said, looking down at her hands as if the treacherous thing was on her lap. "The fabric sometimes fell off so I would sew it back."

Here came the part Dallea was dreading. "A mask? Why did you wear a mask?"

Dallea sat back in her chair and looked at Sigyn. The room they were in was lined with shelves and drawers filled with fabrics and needles and threads. Sigyn bought Dallea her own so she wouldn't have to borrow anything. The sun was lowering in the sky, making the gold tiled floors shimmer beautifully. Dallea knew Sigyn was beautiful, too. In a conventional way, all of her features small and feminine.

Never looking away from Sigyn's face, Dallea spoke with a soft voice. "Because I'm an elf."

Sigyn's mouth opened, disbelief and anger swirling in her eyes. Dallea swallowed and babbled on.

"Much worse, I'm a woman. They didn't want to see me, didn't want me per say, just someone who could fight for them."

"Dallea, dear Norns, that's …" Sigyn said, placing her forgotten sewing on a table and moving to kneel beside Dallea's chair. "That's horrendous."

"Not really," Dallea said, shrugging. "I get it. Woman don't fight. Elves don't fight."

"But …" Sigyn said, placing her hands on Dallea's leg to ground herself. "But what about Lady Sif? She's a woman..."

Dallea pursed her lips, looking at Sigyn and trying to ignore the way her eyes began to itch. "She doesn't look like me."

Sigyn's expression fell when Dallea vacantly gestured towards her ears.

"So? They're just ears, so what?" Sigyn said, standing abruptly and shaking with rage. "So what? Why does it matter?"

Dallea shook her head, dropping her chin to her chest. Instantly Sigyn deflated, sinking to her knees once more. She placed a hand gingerly on Dallea's shoulder. Dallea tensed beneath her touch and so she pulled away.

"I'm sorry, we don't have to talk about this anymore," Sigyn said. When Dallea didn't look up, she pressed her lips together and tried again. "Do you want to leave? I understand if you do."

"No, I'm fine," Dallea said weakly. She sat up, gave a reassuring smile, then resumed sewing as if nothing happened. Sigyn blinked, frozen for only a second before she walked back to her chair and picked up her own fabric.

The silence that ensued was thick. Thankfully, after a very long stretch, it was broken. Not looking up, Sigyn spoke with a forced light tone.

"So are you getting used to Asgard?"

"Um," Dallea said, as if that was a suitable response. Embarrassment she couldn't explain had her in a tight grip and made relaxing impossible. The silence that followed made her feel obligated to continue. "Sort of."

If Sigyn heard her, she made no indication. Another stretch of quiet.

"How's it coming along?" Sigyn asked.

"Okay, I think," Dallea said. "I reckon my stitching is a little crooked."

"That's okay, I think mine is too," Sigyn said. Dallea gave her a fleeting, dubious look, but bit her tongue.

"Did you hear the news from Muspelheim?" Sigyn said, expert fingers working three times more quickly than Dallea. "Everyone's talking about it."

"What news?" Dallea asked, not looking up. Emboldened by the intrigue in Dallea's voice, Sigyn continued.

"The King is dead."

Dallea choked on air. Sigyn glanced at her and nodded when she saw Dallea's disbelief.

"How?" Dallea asked.

"He was in a volcano and it erupted," Sigyn said, smoothing her fabric then cutting her thread with practiced perfection. "Apparently it was a huge explosion, even for Muspelheim."

"Oh," was all Dallea could manage to say.

"Odin left this morning, to go and overlook the voting for a new king," Sigyn said. "Because, you know, we don't want another war."

"Yeah," Dallea said. All her mind could focus on was the mother with the empty satchel. How did they survive explosions like that regularly?

"Apparently this is really bad, though," Sigyn said, shrugging. "This particular King being dead, that is."

"Why?" Dallea asked, peeking at Sigyn through her eyelashes, who was rolling up her thread and folding her fabric.

"Because he was scared of Odin, I hear," Sigyn said. "He did whatever Asgard wanted. But who knows how many Fire Giants are scared anymore?"

"Yeah," Dallea murmured. They're not scared. She remembered how she and the others were nearly attacked going into the palace. They're furious.

Dallea didn't notice Sigyn had cleaned up all of her materials until she stood and stretched. Finally, Dallea ripped herself away from her thoughts and noticed how dark it had become. Sigyn swept up a few pieces of dirt on the table with her hand. Dallea, with her sewing utensils still in hand, watched her dumbly.

"I have to go somewhere before dinner, you should head out whenever you're ready," Sigyn said with a smile. "Don't worry about getting lost; the banquet hall is down the first staircase to right."

"Oh," Dallea said, looking at her fabric while starting to clumsily fold it. "Okay. Thank you."

* * *

"See you at dinner," Sigyn said, slipping out the door. Before it fully shut, however, she poked her head through and added: "Oh, and you can leave your things in the drawer with the blue ribbons on it. That one's mine."

Sigyn was gone before she could hear Dallea's quiet response. "Okay. Thank you."

Dallea entered the hall just as dinner started. There was a brief moment of panic seeing just how many people there were; it wasn't like breakfast or lunch, where people came and went as they pleased. Dinner was when the sun set and Dallea up to that point had skipped it instead of braving the company of the nobles of Asgard. As if to torment her sensory overload even further, an orchestra in the corner of the room finished a song and received enthusiastic applause. Someone's elbow connected with her arm when she started to slow down. Dallea's chest constricted.

Her stomach steeled her nerves. She hadn't eaten lunch. Stepping to the side and out of the stream of people still entering the hall, she craned her neck in search of a familiar face. Anyone. There had to be someone she knew in the throng of sitting people, chattering and laughing amongst each other. A cold sweat glistened on her forehead. For Yggdrasil's sake, was there no one…

"Dallea?" A voice, garbled by half eaten food, called to her from nearby. "Is that her? Dallea!"

Whipping her head to the left and seeing familiar faces a few tables away made her fists unclench. Fandral had been the one to call her name, coaxing the attention of the other warriors, Sif included. Dallea waved politely and Sif beckoned her to an empty seat on her right.

"She sees you, get your elbow out of my face!" Volstagg grunted, shoving Sif's arm away none too gently. Sif, naturally, used that same arm to smack him upside the head. Hogun snorted and Sif began to hiss threat after threat upon Volstagg. The man and his lady companion who were sitting beside Hogun abruptly stood and left with one last horrified glance at the foul words being spouted.

Dallea took her place beside Sif, and while she and Volstagg continued to curse each others grandchildren, Fandral gestured to Dallea with the brim of his flask.

"I saw you when you came in," he said, flexing his jaw to try and pry a piece of meat out of his teeth with his tongue. "But I didn't say anything because - ask Hogun - I said no, that can't be her. I've never seen her come to dinner. Didn't I, Hogun?"

"Yes," Hogun said, if only to appease the man next to him. He did, however, nod politely in Dallea's direction. "You're brave to join us. Sif and Volstagg haven't stopped screaming all day."

"Oh, Norns," Fandral said, tossing a glance at Sif and Volstagg, whose heated words were starting to turn heads. "Would you … Hey!" He stood abruptly, slamming his cup on the table in favour of reaching across and wrenching a knife out of Sif's hand. Similarly, Hogun yanked Volstagg to the side so he couldn't retaliate against her.

"Come to this side," Hogun commanded, refusing to release Volstagg until the man pushed away from the table. In the time it took for Sif to smooth out her ruffled feathers and for Volstagg to march to their side, Hogun and Fandral exchanged exasperated looks.

Dallea sat rigidly still. She couldn't offer anything but a blank stare. With a grim smile, Fandral picked up his flask and took a sip. "Sorry you had to see … that. Volstagg said some things in jest this morning and Sif didn't wake up with a good humour today."

"Low-brow, moronic comments are never funny," Sif all but snarled. She opened her mouth, a scathing lecture on the tip of her tongue, when a louder voice cut through the distracting chatter.

"We know, Sif." Dallea and Sif turned to see Thor seated on a table a few paces away from theirs. The table was isolated and shorter in length than the rest in the hall, but still hosted an impressive number of chairs. It was at the helm of the room, an obvious indication that whoever sat there was important. Though he sat on the side farthest from them, two empty seats allowed them to see the eldest prince's brilliant smile. He raised his mug, which was much more extravagant than Fandral's, in a toast to Sif's anger. "And we know you proved your point. Let us eat without you starting a revolution, yes?"

The Warriors Three raised their glasses to his words, and threw out a few approving words. Sif wordlessly turned to face Dallea, her eyes burning. Dallea knew the emotion that Sif forced into submission.

Without thinking, Dallea placed a hand on Sif's arm before processing whether or not the gesture would be appreciated. Sif smiled, a dazzling sight, and then turned back to her plate.

No one gave Dallea a second glance when she turned as well, picking up a fork and digging into the plate set in front of her. No one watched as she ate. She felt, for the time being, that she wasn't trespassing.

Fandral idly discussed the state of Asgard's southern region, with Volstagg and Hogun chiming in occasionally. Soldiers were being pulled from their policing duties to secure Vanaheim. For a good amount of time, Dallea listened contentedly, feeling a thrill of warmth every time someone met her eyes while speaking; indicating that she was welcome in the conversation.

So enraptured was she, that she didn't notice the doors reopen until Sif stiffened beside her. Looking first to Sif, then to the people entering the hall midway through dinner, it took her a second to understand what she was seeing.

Two people, tittering to each other with looped arms, walked past their table without giving it a glance. Dallea's mouth fell open. Volstagg turned to see the reason for her and Sif's distress.

Unlike the two women, he rolled his eyes and continued to be unfazed. "What a sight. They can't be on time like the rest of us."

"That's too mundane," Hogun added, when the two came into his line of sight.

"I," Dallea started, then clamped her mouth shut. She turned, openly watching Prince Loki and Sigyn unlock arms and sit at the royal table across from Thor. No one except Thor greeted them, with a loud jeer that was met with raucous laughter from the other lords and ladies beside them. Loki said nothing, only smiled at Frigga down the table. Dallea only had a second to realize that the seat beside Frigga's, Odin's seat, was vacant.

"You might want to tuck in your chair," Sif said. Dallea blinked, forcing herself to look at Sif. She had also turned in her seat, glaring daggers at Loki and Sigyn. "I might just be sick."

Dallea was too wrapped up in her own bewilderment to even try to come up with a witty reply. All she could do was flatly state: "I didn't know they were friends."

"Really?" Sif said, looking at Dallea with traces of disgust still in her expression. "You haven't seen them flouncing around together, sticking up their noses? Count yourself lucky."

Dallea could only shake her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sigyn lean into Loki and say something that made him laugh. Is that where Sigyn had to go before dinner? To go see Loki? Sif faced their own table again and Dallea followed suit.

She poked at a hunk of meat she had yet to touch. An ugly emotion made her spirits wither. As much as she tried to rejoin the conversation, she found she couldn't. Sif waved to someone and she didn't look up. If Nanny were there, she'd probably flick Dallea in the cheek, saying something about how ugly thoughts make ugly people.

To distract herself, Dallea shoved a piece of the meat into her mouth, chewing aggressively until she processed the taste. Tears immediately blurred her vision and the pit in her stomach turned into something more tangible: vomit.

Dallea extended her hands, trying to push others away so as not to be caught in the crossfire. Feeling Dallea fervently smacking her arm, Sif looked to see her rapidly turning green.

"Oh Norns," Sif cursed, pushing away from the table not with the intention to get out of the way, but to somehow, from this new vantage point, think of something better to do to help. "Norns, Norns … here, spit it out…"

She vainly searched for a napkin within reach or something, but it wasn't her hand who brandished a cloth in front of Dallea's mouth.

"Spit," the owner of the hand commanded. Dallea complied, and though the taste still lingered in her mouth, the crisis seemed to be averted. A mug of water was shoved into her hands and she downed it without question.

Dallea looked up to see her saviour tying up the cloth and handing it to a nearby servant with a quiet request. Sif sighed, placing a hand on Dallea's knee.

"Are you okay?" Sif asked, unbothered by the staring of the warriors three and a few other curious onlookers. Dallea nodded and looked back up at the woman still standing above her, a tentative smile overcoming her features.

"It's nice to see you again," the woman said, her voice on the brink of laughter at the sheepishness on Dallea's face.

"Eir, you having unbelievable timing," Sif commended to the woman, before pulling out the empty seat on the other side of her.

"You carry around cloths?" Dallea asked, making Eir throw back her head and laugh. Sif also cracked a smile.

"Hey, you needed it, right?" Eir responded, tapping Dallea on the shoulder with one jesting finger. Dallea tried to match her lightheartedness, but in her mind, it had been a genuine question.

Eir graciously sat down, Dallea hyper focused on her every move so as not to acknowledge the people around them still watching to see if she would projectile vomit all over their food. The Warriors Three thought it best to dive into another conversation instead of interrupting Sif when she spoke. "Managed to turn in early?"

"I was in this morning," Eir explained. "So yes."

Sif nodded. Dallea squirmed in her seat, taking another sip of water, which attracted Sif's attention. She looked to Dallea, then to her plate, then back again. "It was the pheasant, wasn't it?"

Dallea looked at the meat reproachfully. "Yeah."

"I don't blame you," Eir said, apparently not very interested in eating anything the servants placed in front of her. "Asgard has spices and therefore thinks it should use every single one for every dish. You're probably just used to Vanir food." She grinned cheekily at Sif. "It's better."

Sif huffed, but looked to Dallea, as if it was her job to reply. Shifting a little and feeling slightly uncomfortable, Dallea gave a half hearted shrug.

"I didn't eat much fine Vanir food." Dallea said. "Just whatever was available."

"Oh?" Eir said, resting her chin on her fist.

"She was a soldier," Sif said. "She was saving people, not sitting around and critiquing food, Eir."

As horrified as Dallea was at the phrasing of Sif's words, Eir laughed and clasp her hands together, looking at Dallea with shining, interested eyes.

"A soldier?" Eir said, whistling slightly while wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Dallea forced herself to laugh, but wished she had an excuse to change the topic. "Like a royal guard? I've never heard of any woman soldiers in Vanaheim."

"Um," Dallea said lamely. If this conversation was to be anything like the one she had earlier with Sigyn, she wanted no part of it. Just the thought of Sigyn made her visibly distressed

"Just a soldier," Sif said, searching Dallea's eyes for a second. In response, Dallea swallowed. "A soldier from Vanaheim. Nothing interesting. By the way, Eir, why didn't you mention you knew Dallea?"

Dallea released a steadying breath. Eir rolled her eyes at Sif.

"Because we didn't exactly meet in the nicest circumstances," Eir said. Dallea froze, eyes wide. Eir leaned forward to beam at her. "You were in the background drooling and snoring the whole time. I think it's an experience we don't want to relive…"

Dallea giggled loudly, her heart thudding against her chest. Sif bristled.

"I do not snore, you liar," she said shortly.

After Sif was content in insisting Eir was a miserable, conniving liar and Eir and Dallea were done laughing at her behest, the three men across from them swallowed them into their conversation about some visiting Lord. Fandral called him a Troll and Hogun choked on his beer. Eir thought he was charming and Volstagg pointed out the way he was picking his nose at the royal table, causing the other five of them to turn, eager to witness this for themselves.

A few seconds of fascinated, but disgusted quiet was spent watching the Lord yank something out of his nose. He was obviously piss drunk, but that didn't stop Fandral from raising his flask and yelling out to him.

"Find what you were looking for, my friend?"

Sif folded in on herself laughing at the startled expression of the Lord upon realizing he had an audience. Dallea turned quickly to hide her face, laughing but not quite ready to openly show it. Eir seemed to share the same sentiment.

When Dallea did sit up and look round at the royal table, she instantly caught eyes with Sigyn. Sigyn's expression was disapproving until she recognized Dallea. Then she smiled and sent her a friendly wave.

Dallea copied the gesture hesitantly. From the corner of her eye she watched Eir, but both women seemed blissfully unaware. Guilt that Dallea didn't realize she hosted came to the forefront of her mind. How long would Sigyn's smile last if she noticed who Dallea was sitting with?

To make Dallea's internal turmoil that much worse, Sigyn's waving piqued Loki's attention and he turned to see what had made her turn around. When he recognized Dallea, he too seemed … not upset to see her. Before Dallea had a chance to smile or wave or determine if his smile was tolerant or gracious, he looked beyond her, to the Warriors Three. They guffawed loudly, over some joke that Sif thought was just as funny. His expression hardened, and he said something quietly to Sigyn before they both turned back to their own table.

Dallea stared at the backs of their heads for a moment. Her ears were ringing. She turned back around and wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Did she deserve to feel the sting of rejection that made her hands twist?

"I need some air," she muttered, and thankfully Sif heard. The thought of repeating herself when she was so on edge made her want to tear her hair out. Surprisingly, Sif frowned. Before Dallea could be dissuaded, she stood and started to tuck in her chair. The movement caught the attention of Eir, who had a quick exchange with Sif.

"Mind if we join you?" Sif said. It was Dallea's turn to furrow her eyebrows. "After dinner people like to dance, and we're not really in the mood."

Dallea hesitated. Then: "Of course."

They bade farewell to the Warriors and found themselves wrestling through a herd of people escorting each other towards the middle of the hall. The orchestra swelled, an upbeat melody inspiring many to rise from their seats and head to the middle of the room.

Dallea lost sight of Eir and Sif. She slipped out of the door and into the hall with a drawn out sigh. Without so much as a glance backward, she continued forward until spotting a side exit Sigyn showed her a few days prior.

She didn't realize her skin was feverish until a cold night breeze blew past. Another sigh.

Stepping further into the darkness, she tilted back her head to look at the sky. Trying to sort out the jumble of emotions in her chest was like trying to read while blindfolded. Though she'd rather be blindfolded for eternity than have the image of Prince Loki and Sigyn turning away from her. That must have been what Sif had been talking about...

As comforting as the dark was, it wouldn't hide her from melancholy. Maybe it wasn't so comforting after all. Who knew? Not her.

"Dallea?" Her hair stood on end, but it didn't show in her expression when she turned toward the source of the voice. Sif leaned out of a window not too far away. "I thought it was you."

Hanging her head as if she were about to be scolded, Dallea made her way back inside to face Eir and Sif. To her surprise, they didn't look irritated, just curious. Maddeningly, none of them address Dallea's hasty exit.

"Your hair practically glows in the dark," Eir remarked. Her tone was light, but it didn't seem forced. "We saw you from across the hall."

With dreamlike distraction, Dallea began to twirl the ends of her hair around her finger. Her eyes drifted to Sif, inquisitive but shy, and when she found no reproach in the woman she dared to speak.

"You used to be more blonde than I," Dallea said. Sif's face fell, and Dallea wished she could sew her mouth shut.

"Until Loki decided that it would be funny to cut it all off," she grumbled, crossing her arms.

"Oh no," Eir said, laughing. Sif looked at her, disgruntled. Dallea watched them, not wanting to break the playfulness. "I remember when I had to stitch him up afterward."

"That was a good day," Sif said, grinning wolfishly. It was Dallea's turn to cross her arms.

"What happened?"

"Oh, he got arrogant and I put him in his place in the arena," Sif shrugged, but struggled to suppress her smugness.

"Ah." Dallea didn't know if she could say anything else.

"No matter," Eir said, swatting the air. "Should we head outside? Dallea said she wanted some air…"

"You know where else there's air?" Sif said, another smile creeping across her face. "In the training arena."

"You brute," Eir scoffed, but looked to Dallea all the same. A cocked brow asked her next question for her.

"I …" Dallea said, looking at Eir while tugging on the ends of her hair. She had to do something with her buzzing nerves. "I wouldn't mind going to the arena."

Expecting outrage from her and receiving a shrug of nonchalance instead, Dallea matched Sif's smile with her own.

"It's about time!" Sif exclaimed, closing the distance between her and Dallea and clapping her on the shoulder. "I've been waiting for you to wander down ever since you arrived. Let's go see what you're made of."

Still feeling guilty for siding with Sif, Dallea looked to Eir. She seemed equally as eager.

"I'll patch you two up afterwards," she said. "That's my excuse for tagging along."

Sif let out a victorious "Ah-ha!" while shaking Dallea's shoulder. After she was satisfied with Dallea's laughter, she patted her collar. "Come on, then. I can't kick your arse if you don't move it."

A warm feeling blanketed Dallea's doubt. Sif's confidence was contagious. "Please, save your breath. You'll need it if you want to stand a chance."

Stepping around them and making her way down the hall, Eir cackled. Dallea blushed a violent red colour. Sif looked disbelieving for a second, but then drowned out Dallea's nervous giggling with her own laughter.

Dallea scurried after Eir to avoid Sif's half hearted punch to the arm. The sting had long since left Dallea's mind, replaced with side splitting laughter. The night wasn't so cold after all.

* * *

 **An epic battle of me vs me took place whilst going through this chapter; is it boring? Or not.**

 **WishUponADragon - I'm crying in the club too don't worry. Also, depends on your expectations of haywire :)) Love you lots!**


	11. A Coward Dies a Hundred Deaths

_Chapter 11_

 _A Coward Dies A Hundred Deaths_

* * *

As heavily fortified as the enchantments around the Mages of Vanaheim were, it didn't take the Gust very long to slither past them. After all, they weren't created with an omnipresent enemy in mind, even if it had taken the Gust days to find them.

Neither was the bifrost, apparently, seeing as the Gust had managed to infiltrate a trip from Muspelheim to Asgard and escape to Vanaheim halfway through the journey. The Asgardian guards who it had secretly travelled with inspired bloodthirst and fear all at once.

Those same emotions reared their heads as the Gust floated closer and closer to the Mages, who were silent in their individual endeavors; some reading, some meditating, some casting spells into the daylight. They were unsuspecting. They had full trust in their protection enchantments.

Their arrogance inspired the Gust's to spike. The urge to sweep through and kill all of them, then to take what rested in their temples. There was no need to be stealthy; Odin was far, far away, and a handful of monks would hardly be a challenge.

A moment of doubt crossed its mind, and then its rage was back in full force.

The clearing that the Mages inhabited suddenly became much warmer. Surrounded by trees on one side and a cliffside on the other, a handful of Mages looked to the treeline curiously, thinking that was the only logical place for an intruder to come from. They were right.

The Gust came screaming from its hiding place and ran through the nearest Mage, who didn't have time to rise to his feet before his lungs shriveled and he fell to the ground.

Another Mage, who had been casting, turned its attention to the slightly shaded presence of the Gust, and with a well aimed hex, sent it keeling backward.

The other Mages rose to defend as well, leaving the Gust not only severely outnumbered, but dazed from the spelled being shot in its direction. Pathetically, it doubled back and slunk back into the forest, as much as it loathed itself for doing so. The Mages in the clearing, much to its dismay, took up the chase.

Some Mages had ran out into the clearing from within the catacombs after hearing the commotion. Another Mage, one with a marking in the middle of his forehead, knelt down next to the Mage who the Gust had attacked. The now dead Mage had burn marks on his back and on his chest, as well as a singed cloak.

The Marked Mage looked up, fear evident in his eyes. "Armod, take three and go to Njörd. Tell him we are under attack by a fire demon." The Mage, Armod, nodded and did as he was told. "The rest of you will accompany me to to the Temple of Awe."

The mere mention of that particular temple caused a flurry of nervous muttering to swell and then immediately cease when the Marked Mage stood.

"This does not mean that whatever attacked us is Surtr, or even one of his soldiers," the Mage said. "But we can't take any chances anymore. If he is here, and we know what he looks for, we cannot…"

"The Sword of Surtr?" a Mage, standing on the outskirts of the group, furrowed his brow. "Are we going to use it on him? What chance do we have, if it truly is Surtr…"

"Enough, Feigning," the Marked Mage commanded, raising his hand in a silencing motion. "We will not hesitate to do what is necessary."

With a handful of Mages staying behind to guard the catacombs, the Marked Mage taking most of his men to the temple, and even more Mages in hot pursuit of the Gust, the Mages effectively spread themselves thin. Armod could not move fast enough.

* * *

"She never liked it." Dallea realized, mid sentence, that she had lied to herself. She had swore that she would tell no one of Jania since, judging by past interactions, her mother had an untouchable reputation. Yet when Sif and Eir held such an opinion, she found it her personal obligation to prove otherwise. "She had a vendetta against me going anywhere near a battle. She said we aren't made for fighting, said there was no point in trying to prove otherwise."

There was a moment of silence as Sif and Eir processed this. The day was beautiful and Dallea felt bad for souring it with such talk, but they seemed more interested than anything, which bolstered her confidence.

"She always said that I was going against her whenever I left," Dallea said. She was on the leftmost side of the three of them, and the horse she rode on seemed to be the most eager to journey back to the palace. Turning to gauge their reactions, she continued. "So I stopped visiting. Queen Skandi offered me a home in Vanaheim and I took it. Then, on the night we met again Sif, I found out she's disowning me."

"Norns…" Eir murmured, tugging on her reins and offering Dallea a sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry to hear that. But if it's any consolation, my mother wanted me to be a housewife. You can imagine her reaction when I said I was going to school."

Dallea gave a small, knowing smile.

"Needless to say I don't have a home with her anymore," Eir said.

"I swear, my mother is rolling in her grave as we speak," Sif scoffed. The stables were not far at that point. "Bless my father and his insistent need for a son."

"Bless mine for being wealthy," Eir said. She looked to Dallea, as if she should add her own comment. Giving an embarrassed shrug, Dallea faced forward again.

"I never knew mine," Dallea murmured, just barely loud enough for them to hear. "He died before I was born."

With that, they arrived at the stables and dismounted in silence. Sif had her own horse, but Eir and Dallea borrowed two from Odin's fleet after Sif convinced Dallea that there were plenty of horses to spare.

"There's a show in a few hours," Eir said, turning to Sif, then smiling at Dallea. "Have you ever seen a play at the Theatre?"

"When I was a child," Dallea said, patting the horse she had ridden lovingly and receiving a snort of approval.

"Don't you have studying to do?" Sif said, raising an eyebrow at Eir, bushing past her to grab two apples from a chest in the corner.

"I have been studying," Eir said, swatting the air and leaning up against a post in the center of the stable. "I have to take days off, you know."

"Mm," Sif said, giving an apple to Dallea before moving back to her own horse. Dallea took it graciously and offered it to her horse with a smile. "And yesterday wasn't a day off? Dallea, do you remember there being study notes at the bottom of the pond?"

"No," Dallea said, sharing a sly grin with Sif. "But maybe they were written on Fandral's bicep?"

Eir stood up straight, pointing a warning finger at Dallea. Sif gasped loudly, covering her mouth to hide her smile. Yet the paleness on Eir's face and the embarrassment in her eyes left no room for anger, so Dallea threw back her head and laughed. Her hands shook slightly, reeling from her own boldness.

Before Eir could make a scathing retort, laughter that drowned out Sif and Dallea's entered the stable. The three woman turned just in time to see Prince Loki's smug smile and Thor wipe a tear from his eye.

"Good Norns." Was all Thor was able to say before the thought of Loki's joke caught up to him and he was once again overcome by peels of laughter.

"Look who it is," Sif called out, unafraid of interrupting the two princes. Dallea, however, blanched and turned to the horse, running her hand up and down its neck soothingly. Dallea noticed Eir step up to her side, and so she moved to give her room. "What's so funny?"

Loki's expression mellowed into something more humble upon noticing Sif. She had eyes only for Thor and so his gaze drifted from her to the stalls of horses, and stopped at the one that two women were crowded around. He slipped from Thor's side.

"Nothing that you'd understand, Sif," Thor said, but his smile never faltered.

"So you need to have the mindset of a troll to understand?" Sif said, nodding slowly. "I see."

"Easy," Thor warned, but his tone was light and jesting. "I don't think your pride can take another loss in the arena."

"Me? Pride?" Sif said, pointing at her chest with feigned insult. "You really are as smart as a troll."

Dallea flinched when she felt someone tap her on the shoulder. She turned nonetheless.

"I think that's the most attention that horse has received in a long time," Loki said, jerking his head in its direction then clasping his hands behind his back.

"That's a shame," Dallea said, feeling her tongue swell. Eir reluctantly turned to Loki, but took a step away from him and Dallea. Loki noticed the motion and nodded in her direction. Eir did the same. Dallea's gaze bounced between the two of them, an unspoken question only silenced because Loki spoke quicker.

"Are you going for a ride?" he asked.

"No, we just came back from one," Dallea said, gaze drifting to Sif and Thor, still bickering but walking closer.

"I see," he said after a second of waiting for her to ask the same question back to him. "Thor and I are going out for one."

"That's nice," she said, running her teeth over her bottom lip. "It's getting kind of cold."

"That's never bothered me," Loki said, his mouth pursing. She chanced a look at his eyes and found reproach. She blew air out of her nose quickly and tried for a smile, but he openly frowned. Irritation flared in her chest and she looked to the side and smiled widely at Eir; too widely. Eir swallowed hard, seeing her discomfort but not knowing what to do. Damn him and his stupid ability to read her like an open book. "Dallea?"

Hearing him say her name knocked the air out of her lungs. She immediately met his gaze, eyes wide. He didn't sound like the person Sif or Hlín insisted he was. Guilt shone through her eyes alongside a silent apology. Loki seemed more confused than anything; why was she acting so distant?

She opened her mouth, but was cut off by Thor. She took a steadying step backward, remembering with flushed cheeks that they were not alone. The horse nudged her shoulder and she absently pet it's neck.

"Come along, brother," Thor said, shooting Dallea a suspicious look before patting his brother's shoulder, in the process pushing him to the side. "We best leave now to be back for dinner."

Before he could be dragged away completely, Loki furtively looked from Thor to Dallea, then ducked his head and opened his mouth as if to say something to her. Dallea stared at his face, hanging onto every breath.

"And we have a show to go see," Sif said, much too loudly. She wrapped a protective arm around Dallea and stared blankly at Loki, as if daring him to speak. He straightened stiffly, nostrils flaring, before he turned on his heel and followed his brother to the other side of the stable, where Dallea presumed the more important, purebred horses were kept.

Dallea felt the urge to shrug Sif off, but didn't have the heart to. Eir suggested they start walking now if they wanted good seats. Sif argued that they could take the horses, to which Eir countered that her legs would fall off if she sat back up on a horse. Dallea was silent, and remained so for most of the walk.

* * *

The Gust knew it was no use trying to escape into the clear blue sky, where it would be spotted immediately. Instead it kept low to the ground, creeping alongside the roots of trees. The Mages pursued it slowly, tracking disoriented shadows and praying they would catch it before the sun set.

Feeling the damage of their spells grow more and more with every minute, the Gust crawled forward, whining a frequency that the Mages couldn't detect. The wall of enchantments was in sight now, if it could only go a little further …

"Wait," the Mage who had attacked the Gust first held up a hand to stop the tightly packed group. "If it has gone beyond our wall, we should turn back."

No! The Gust wanted to scream. Come a little further. Just beyond the enchantment. The brush rustled, attracting the attention of the Mages.

One Mage took a step closer, ducking close to the ground with a small knife in his hand.

"I said wait," the other Mage commanded.

"It's close," he responded, not bothering to turn around. "If it got through our defences once, it will do it again."

The Gust doubled back on itself, hiding in the branches of a tree as the Mage ventured further toward a rustling bush a ways away from where the Gust actually hid, despite the protests.

A few other Mages reinforced the knife-wielding mage, creeping over the edge of the enchantment. The bush stopped moving.

Before the Mages could realize their mistake, a huge Mare exploded from the shadows and bit down on the closest Mage. His screams became muted as the Mare dragged him away. The other two Mages tried to flee back into the enchantment but were also apprehended by more Mares.

"Good Norns…" a Mage whispered as the shadows darkened into tangible monsters, crawling over each other and surging toward them. The remaining Mages flinched backward as a wall of Mares strained against the enchantments. Were they powerful enough to uphold their enchantments? Should they have tried to reinforce them?

Instead they turned and fled, screaming back toward the catacombs. The enchantments fell and an upsurge of Mares flooded into the same direction.

* * *

Dallea pressed her palm into the table and it twitched, the irritation fleeting but present. Hlín, of course, ignored her frustrated expression in favour of this.

"Did you not go see Frigga …"

"I did," Dallea said quickly, her eyes never leaving the potted plant in front of her. "She said the pain will go away on its own."

Hlín said they were in one of Frigga's studies. Dallea was wary at first, being lead down a corridor so isolated, but the room was cozy and a large window made it seem more open. Besides, there was no one else there to witness her try and fail for the millionth time to get the shrub in front of her to do _something_.

"Really?" Hlín said. "Is it getting better, then?"

Dallea grimaced. "I think? I don't know how magical wounds heal."

"Hm," Hlín said, sitting down next to her and brandishing her palm; a request. Dallea let out a sigh and placed her bitten hand in that same palm. She finally relaxed her spine and looked at Hlín curiously as she, in turn, looked at Dallea's hand with intrigue.

"Can you see something?" Dallea asked. The Healers hadn't, but Loki and Frigga had. Were they not looking close enough?

"No," Hlín said flatly. "I possess no magic, therefore I cannot see it."

"What are you looking at?" Dallea asked. Hlín looked up at her through her eyelashes, and something along the lines of amusement made her mouth twitch upward.

"I'm just thinking." Before Dallea could open her mouth again, Hlín continued quickly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes?" Dallea said, noticing Hlín's voice take on a softer quality.

"Frigga mentioned the other day something about … _ghoul oh hausts_?" Hlín said chopily, her eyes shifty and uncertain. Dallea smiled warmly. "But I didn't quite understand…"

"Gúl -o hosts?" Dallea said, a trace of a smile still on her lips as the elvish language rolled smoothly off her tongue. "It means Magic of Hosts, roughly. It's a way some elves describe their relationship with nature and their beliefs that nature uses them as 'hosts' for its power so they can take care of it, in turn."

Hlín listened with rapt fascination that made Dallea slightly uncomfortable. Though, she suspected, Hlín had been enduring Dallea make that same expression for the entire day.

"Does everyone from Alfheim have it?" Hlín asked, her back ramrod straight even as she inclined her neck towards Dallea.

"Well…" Dallea said, eyes drifting to the window. "It depends on who you ask."

Hlín nodded instead of asking any unnecessary questions. She knew this such thing would be ridiculed by Vanir and Aesir people alike, if not ignored entirely. Dallea continued a few moments later.

"The woman who raised me believed it. Though she called it Rind -o cuil, or life cycle."

"Do you believe it?" Hlín asked. Dallea glanced in her direction, a clouded emotion in her eyes. All too quickly, Hlín realized that Dallea most likely didn't have the luxury to answer that question. Instead Hlín once again placed Dallea's palm in her hand. "I believe."

"What?" Dallea said bluntly.

"Can I ask you another question?" Hlín asked, not waiting for Dallea speak. "Have you ever been bit by a Mare before?"

"Um…" Dallea said. "No."

"And you said your father didn't have any magic?" Hlín said.

"As far as I know," Dallea said.

"Alright, then. Have you ever had any magical wounds like this one before?"

"No," Dallea lied, but she didn't see how in doing so she was doing Hlín any harm.

"I see," Hlín said with a nod. She sat back in her chair and frowned at the table, her mind a million miles away. Dallea observed this with growing discomfort.

"Hlín?" She receive a grunt as a reply. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't…" Hlín started, but then sighed and looked at Dallea. "I can't be sure, but I believe the magic you possess isn't the kind that can be controlled..." Hlín rationalized. "It exists, it's present, but it reacts on its own."

"I beg your pardon?" Dallea said,

"I don't know what to tell you," Hlín said. "I'll have to discuss this with the queen, but it seems like your innate magic is bleeding out. Not revealing itself to be used."

Dallea folded her arms, frustration making a crease form on her forehead. "So I'm destined to while away my life hoping it doesn't hurt someone without my permission?"

"I didn't say that," Hlín said shortly, her tone leaving no room for any more attitude. "I'm saying that unless there's a chance you can manipulate your abilities, you shouldn't waste your days trying. And right now … I don't think that chance exists."

Dallea shook her head, keeping her eyes down so Hlín couldn't see the betrayal in her expression. Her voice was deceptively even when she spoke. "Then you wouldn't mind if I retired to my room?"

"Of course," Hlín said. "Don't sulk. It's not anyone's fault, we tried all day."

"I know," Dallea said. She sounded tired. She left the room with the same dejected expression.

On the way to the staircase she had come to know as the one that lead to her room, she happened to pass a servant. An idea crossed her mind. She stopped the young girl with a polite smile.

"Could you perhaps tell me how to get to the library?"

* * *

The Mages approached a clearing, lead by the Marked Mage, and tried their best to allow the chirping of various animals to drown out their footfalls. Yet the Marked Mage held up a hand to stop their steady progression for only a moment.

"We need watchmen in every direction, in case there is any sign of …" he trailed off, clearing his throat then continuing, pointing a steady finger at the closest Mage to him. "Go north. You, go south. You, west, and …"

"I'll stay here," Feigning said, puffing out his chest all the while. "And cover east."

The Marked Mage glanced at him, eyes narrowed, then nodded. "And Julio will stay with you."

There was no room for negotiation, as much as Feigning started to protest. The Marked Mage turned and moved closer to the temples. Julio bobbed his head at a disgruntled Feigning then brushed past him to find a spot to settle in the greenery where they wouldn't so easily been seen. Feigning followed with a grunt.

"Here," Julio commanded, pointing to two bushes on either sides of a path. He ducked into one, leaving Feigning to crawl behind the other.

They sat in the shrubs in silence for what felt like forever, but the sun was just barely peaking in the sky. The heat, even in the shade, was sweltering. Julio let the sweat run down his face while Feigning ran a cloaked wrist over his brow every other minute.

"Who do you think this creature is?" Feigning said after the silence threatened to drive him completely insane.

"I don't know," Julio said, his voice steady, as was his eastward gaze. "But that doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters, you oaf," Feigning snarled, slapping a bug on his arm and adjusting his squatting position. "If we're supposed to fend off Surtr, then I'd like to know before being sent to the slaughterhouse."

Julio sent him an exasperated glare. "You were the one who volunteered."

"Yes," Feigning sighed, annoyance twisting his stomach in knots the longer he sat there. "But … ugh. I think I'd be better off alone. Maybe if I move a bit farther out?"

"We are to look out together," Julio said, looking eastward again. "Together is not in two different places."

Feigning bowed his head, muttering silent words to himself and threading his fingers together, until he thought of something to say.

"Really, just tell me. You think it's Surtr." Julio said nothing. "Come on. Here, I'll tell you what I think; it's definitely Surtr, and we're not going to be able to stop him if he gets to us."

Julio remained completely and utterly still, as if he were carved out of stone.

Frustrated, Feigning let out a noise half way between a growl and a grunt. "For Yggdrasil's sake you moron, this is life or death. We need to get out of here before he comes if we want any chance of surviving."

Julio turned to him slowly, with narrowed eyes. That was the only sign he gave of hearing Feigning's words.

Feigning stood suddenly, kicking out his stiff limbs and declaring; "I won't wait here to be sacrificed. If you were smart, you'd follow me."

Julio stood, his mouth twisting into a snarl. "You will do no such thing. You volunteered to keep watch and that is what…"

"Keep watch? This is the closest route back to the catacombs. That have stronger enchantments. And weapons. You're an idiot if you think I wasn't going to go back," Feigning scoffed, stepping onto the path and brushing himself off. "If everyone's out here risking their lives, who's going to survive and keep our traditions alive? I'll tell you who: me…"

Whatever Feigning was planning on saying after that was cut off by a swift punch to the jaw from Julio, who had launched himself at the other Mage. Feigning snarled and whacked Julio's head with his elbow and pushed him back into the bushes. Julio struggled to get up, but Feigning planted a knee on his chest and pressed a hand to the man's mouth, whispering a silencing spell. He then grabbed both of Julio's arms, yanking them back as hard as he could, dislocating them in the process.

Julio's mouth formed a muted scream, and Feigning could feel the man trembling beneath him. Still, Feigning brandished a knife in front of the other man's face and gave him an apologetic look.

"Sorry, brother." Feigning plunged the knife into Julio's neck then stood up quickly. Without a second though he dragged Julio back into the bushes and kicked some branches on his dying body. "I gave you a chance."

With that, he started his trek back toward the catacombs, never once looking back.

* * *

The room was well lit by the blazing afternoon sun and seeing all the rows of books put a bounce in Dallea's step. She walked down the broad main aisle, tracing her finger across the wooden shelves and muttering book titles under her breath. She was overcome with purpose until the sound of laughter interrupted her good mood. She recognized that laugh, as well as the voice that followed.

Dallea flattened herself against the bookshelf, eyes widening. Sigyn and Loki. At the moment it didn't even matter what they were laughing about, just that upon peeking through the spins of two books, she saw they were lounging on chairs in the middle of the room. She was being ridiculous and she knew it, but she just felt so drained from the day that the thought of speaking to either of them made her weak at the knees. That was fine, she rationalized. The catalogue, if her memory served correct, was by the study rooms her and Loki had visited the last time she had come there. Easy, she just had to sneak back to the door and find it.

She did so while crouching ridiculously and ignoring the now deafening sound of Sigyn and Loki discussing something trivial. Whether she knew if it was trivial or not was beside the point.

She turned a corner and the catalogue came into view, perched on its own podium. She walked toward it slowly, but stopped when she realized how quiet it had become. Dallea kneeled and placed a grounding hand on the tiled floor. Her ears twitched, trying to detect any sign of movement.

Sure enough, from about two aisles away from her, Sigyn coughed. Dallea crawled a few paces forward, using her hands to brace herself so she could stay semi-upright, then stopped to listen again. Nothing. She chanced a peek around a bookshelf, all but sitting on the floor.

"Loki, I put it back," Sigyn said from farther away.

"In its right spot?" he replied from the middle of the room. Dallea shrunk back behind the bookshelf again. "Because I swear …"

"Oh, please. It's in the right spot. Goodbye, Loki," Sigyn said, her tone light with laughter. The sound of the door closing behind her made Dallea sigh with relief.

Dallea stood to her full height and stepped up to the catalogue, flipping through it as quietly as she possibly could. Alchemy, no … not alfileria …

Something scuffed the ground behind her and she twisted her torso, one hand holding the catalogue protectively as she searched the aisle. It was empty. Her gaze raked along the shelves for books that could have slipped from their place, or any sign of Loki. She began to turn back around, wariness causing her to consider the space behind her one last time. Finally satisfied there was no one behind her, she turned back to the catalogue.

"Looking for something?"

Of _course_ he was standing on the other side of the podium, leaning on it with a smug look on his face. Dallea jumped back, placing a hand over her heart and squeezing her eyes shut.

"Fancy running into you here, since for some reason I haven't seen you _anywhere_ lately," he said, voice dripping with too much camaraderie to be genuine. When she opened her eyes he was leaning even farther over the catalogue, his eyebrows raised in mock innocence. "Something the matter?"

"No," Dallea said hotly, forcing her mouth to upturn then looking down at the page, almost immediately spotting the word she was looking for: Alfheim. "Anyway, I have things to do, nice seeing you ..."

"Like?" He pushed himself upright and walked around the podium in two long strides. He looked down at the page and Dallea took this distraction to escape into the nearest aisle, walking quick enough to distance herself but not be objectively running.

After turning a few corners, she turned a final one and found herself in the middle of the room where Loki and Sigyn had been before. Except Loki was there, leaning against a bookshelf and watching her thoughtfully. She dragged a hand down her face and looked behind her, debating trying to run again. Instead she turned to him and gestured vaguely with her hand.

"How? _Why_?" Dallea exclaimed.

"Why are you sneaking around?" Loki asked, ignoring her exasperation in favour of a calm, even tone. "And why did you think you could sneak past _me_? It's my expertise."

"I know," Dallea said irritably, cocking her head to the side with a scrunched nose.

"What are you looking for, then?" he pressed, pushing off the shelf and moving toward her stiff form. After a few moments a devilish grin possessed his features. "You aren't doing something you aren't supposed to, are you?"

"What?!" Dallea said, trying to sound firm, but the closer he got the redder her cheeks became and the more obviously flustered she felt. Her eyes didn't seem able to meet his.

"My my," he said cheekily. "Now _that's_ exciting."

"It's not like that," Dallea said, holding out a hand to figuratively stop him from tormenting her further, but her head was bowed and she underestimated how close he was. He ran into her hand, and allowed it to stop him from moving closer.

Dallea, goosebumps running up her arms, raised her head to see her hand solidly against his chest. She could see from her peripheral that his grin had yet to falter. After a second to process that she was effectively feeling up a prince, she yanked her hand away with breakneck speed. Finally he ceased smiling, instead settling for a contented smirk. She looked at his face and he shrugged, raising his eyebrows as well.

Despite this, she couldn't stop herself from murmuring: "Sorry, I didn't..."

"Don't be," he said, cutting her off. "It's the second best thing I've run into today."

Dallea's mouth fell open. _He … me?_ Dallea thought before her thoughts shuddered to a complete halt. She stared at him with an empty expression until he started to laugh.

He took advantage of her frazzled state by giving her his most charming grin and bowing his head slightly to seem more virtuous. "What are you looking for?"

Her eyelids fluttered, then she cleared her throat. "Um … just something on Alfheim."

"Oh?" he said. "Like what?"

"Like … just some history texts or something," Dallea said.

He nodded, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration and standing straight so he could survey his surroundings. Dallea folded her hands in front of her and took a steadying breath. Loki spent the next few seconds rubbing his upper lip with the back of his index finger and looking very pensive.

"I think I might have something for you," he said, wagging that same finger at her before beckoning her as he strode away. Dallea couldn't think of anything to do but follow.

He lead her to the area the catalogue had directed her toward; ancient history. Of course, it looked like any other aisle in the room, just with an array of spines with the word "history" identifying them. At least, by him leading her there, she didn't have to waste time wandering around practically helpless

He drummed his fingers along the shelves when he slowed and started actually reading the titles of the books. In one swift motion, he pulled out a beautifully decorated tome spackled with dust. He blew on it to remove said dust and then offered it to her face up so she could read the title. _Elvish History_ , and in smaller letters, the elvish translation: _Edhelen Gobennas_.

Dallea gingerly took the book out of his hand and scanned the white and blue font over and over until she plucked the nerve to look up at him. "Thank you."

He hummed, folding his hands behind his back and looking at her with an emotion free from any hidden intensity. She tucked the book under her arm and made a move to go back to the centre of the room, but before she could rotate fully, she stopped. What if he wanted to be alone now?

However he had already taken a step forward and looked puzzled as to why she had stopped moving, as if it was natural for her to go back to the centre. She brushed a strand of hair over her ears and tried to be nonchalant as she resumed turning around.

Loki, once they arrived, unceremoniously flopped on a chair and snatched a book off of a nearby table. He was already fully immersed in his book when Dallea chose a chair close enough to be in his company, but not directly beside him. She couldn't run the risk of sitting in Sigyn's seat, after all.

The chairs were ridiculously luxurious, and Dallea felt no shame in sinking into hers. She flipped through the first few pages of the table of contents before she found what she was looking for: Mythos.

If she were in Alfheim, there would probably be extensive studies on the gúl -o hosts, but the condensed Asgardian versions would do. She hoped.

While thumbing through the pages in search of a particular myth, her mind wandered to Hlín. She felt, if that was possible, even more aware of who she was sharing the room with. But, Dallea thought, those boundaries were ones Hlín set up if she was going to teach her magic. Now that _that_ was presumably off the table …

It was no use. She wriggled uncomfortably and then pursed her lips to stop a question from bubbling out of her mouth.

"Loki?" There was no harm in asking. He hummed as a reply, not looking up from the page. "Why didn't you tell me about the side effects of my magic?"

"What?" he said, looking up, but not at her.

"Why didn't you …"

"I know, but what do you mean, side effects?" he asked, then looked at her with narrowed eyes. "What, as in before you get a handle over yourself you'll be a little unstable? That's hardly a side effect. It happens to everyone."

"No, not that," Dallea said, placing the tome flat on her lap and sighing. "The part where I'm too old to learn magic and it'll always be out of control? You know, _that_ part?"

He scoffed. "Who said _that_?"

Suddenly she wasn't confident enough to stare him down. She bit the inside of her cheek and tried to let the chair swallow her. Loki placed the book on the side table and sat up.

"I just did some reading," Dallea muttered, hoping he would take her excuse . She had a feeling he wouldn't like the true answer to that question.

His eye twitched, but he decided it wasn't the pressing issue. "Well whoever told you was wrong. All magic can be manipulated with practice."

"Really?" Dallea said, looking up with disbelief painted on her expression.

"Yes, really," he snapped. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Why didn't you tell me it could be dangerous at the beginning?" she countered.

"You didn't ask."

For a second she felt like the stupidest person alive. She looked back down at her book, then, with cheeks tinted pink. Between her fingers she rubbed the corner of a page, earnest to calm the embarrassed quavering of her hands. For a few minutes, she thought he would leave it as that: tension slowly draining from the room, turning into an uneasy silence.

"Who told you about it, then?" he said, the coldness in his words melting away. "Was it my mother?"

"No," Dallea said, her quietness seeming louder in his ears.

"What are you reading?" Loki asked suddenly, his voice entirely new.

She didn't look up, and her voice remained quiet. "Just some elvish history."

Another silence. She still didn't look up. He exhaled loudly, and when he spoke, his voice matched hers in terms of volume.

"I didn't tell you about the danger of your magic because I'm of the belief it isn't as grave as whoever probably told you it is," he said. Finally she looked at him. A strange emotion flickered on his face, as he rest his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands together slowly. "I didn't think it was necessary to stop you from being …" he stopped that train of thought abruptly. "Rather, I didn't see the point in worrying you. If you think that was wrong of me, I can't convince you otherwise."

Dallea looked away, swallowing uncomfortably. Then the rest of his words sank in and she sat up in her seat. "Are you talking about all magic or my magic in particular?"

"What?" he said, shaking his head slightly. "You're an Elf, you have different magic."

"How different?" she asked.

"Well, I assume you're familiar with gúl -o hosts?" he asked, and when she nodded he mimicked the motion and continued. "All Elves have it. Some Elves, like you, have stronger innate magic than others. The difference is that it's harder to detect the stronger magic because it's meant to be used in small ways, like calming emotions with physical contact."

Dallea nodded again, more slowly this time. "So does that mean it's less dangerous?"

"Well, I don't think making painting fall to the ground is within the realm of normal Elf magic," Loki admitted. "You have a strong gúl -o hosts, but there's something different about it." He must have noticed her distress, because he was quick to add: "But not life threatening. It's equally unruly, but it's nothing that can't be controlled," Loki said, spreading his hands as if to further prove his point. "It's been done before."

"Really?!" Dallea shouted, then slapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry, sorry. How do you know it's been done before?"

Loki shifted in his seat, eyes wandering to a place above her head as her wracked his memory. "Well, I remember there being a documentation of Elves who were able to master their abilities. There has to have been a case of magic similar to yours."

"Like 'the Tale of Ruven the Wise'?" Dallea said, pointing at Loki with a brilliant smile. "That's what I'm researching. There's this old myth about an elf who was able to use his magic after he was bit by a snake."

"Oh?" Loki said, seeming taken aback. "I'm not familiar with that one. I was talking about the ones who took a vow of silence."

Dallea cocked her head, but her eyes were shining. "Could you … I mean, would you … if it was here ... is it here?"

He smirked as she stumbled over herself, seeing through her misaligned thoughts. "Do you want me to get it for you?"

"Um, yes please," Dallea said, finding his expression more taunting than comforting. It was amusing for him to pluck her thoughts out of her head. She looked back down at the book in her lap so he couldn't catch her indignation.

He stood and disappeared into a different aisle. She scanned the page she was on and then flipped to the next, continuing until she happened across the one titled Ruven the Wise in elvish. In fact, this particular story was written in complete elvish, not just the hodgepodge mixture of languages that took up the rest of the book.

She hadn't noticed that Loki had taken a seat in the chair directly to her right until his voice startled her out of reading.

"Are you doing this to prove that you're capable of learning magic?" he asked, not looking up from the new book he had in his hand. It was his turn to whirl through the pages in search of something. Dallea felt a flash of annoyance at yet another correct presumption.

"More like I'm trying to find the best way how," Dallea said, speaking the first alternate thought that popped into her head. He glance at her and she shrugged with one shoulder then presumed reading.

"Hm," he said, his voice laced with approval. Whether it was due to her blatant lying or her reason, she couldn't tell.

"Is that just a story or are there written explanations as well?" Loki asked, leaning over her shoulder to get a better look at the page he was reading. Dallea, forcing her heart to stop beating so loudly to no avail, allowed a second to ensure when she opened her mouth actual words came out, instead of a string of "Um"s and "Uh"s.

"Written explanations," she said. "They say what people saw, what he thought, and then what was actually happening."

"And?" he said, looking at her with an almost hungry look in his eye. He couldn't read elvish. She had a feeling some part of him was desperate to hear it, but not desperate enough to outright ask.

"Here," she said, shifting so he could see the page. "It says that half a millenia ago a man named Ruven was cast out from his tribe known as the ..." she stopped, not knowing how to translate a word that had no exact translation. "As a tribe who took a vow of silence in order to hone their skills…"

"The Silent Men," Loki said, drumming his fingers on his own book and looking proud. "Those are the ones I was thinking of."

"Looks like you were right, then," Dallea admitted, giving him a slight smile before looking back at the page. He continued looking at her face for the next few moments and then followed suit. "Anyway, they kicked him out and he was bitten by a magic snake and it released his powers. They say the snake had a special kind of venom in its fangs that bit through Ruven's hand and soul, yanking out his magic in the process. He killed the snake accidentally using his magic, then returned to the Silent Men, to make sense of his wounds."

Dallea stopped reading for a moment to look at Loki, hesitant. Was she reading the similarities of her and Ruven too literally? No, his expression seemed to reply back. His mouth was neutral but his eyes were soft. She cleared her throat and continued.

Ruven eventually was sent off to Vanaheim and mastered magic as if he was of Vanir or Aesir blood. Many questioned the legitimacy of his elvish heritage because of this, but it was unmistakable due to his large, pointed ears. Yet Ruven, despite being a very skilled magician, died inexplicably at a relatively young age. Some wonder if it was because every time he used his magic he was draining it from his life source.

Dallea stared at the page for a long time. Then her eyes wandered to her hand. With tentative slowness, she flipped it so her palm was skyward.

"Here," Loki said, swaddling her hand with his own without asking. There was an edge to his voice, as if he were desperate to disprove her before she lost any more colour in her cheeks. He pressed a finger to her palm and even though it hurt she didn't pull away. Her reaction seemed to be the right one, because gone was his own uneasiness. "That can't be true. Yours is healing."

"But, if I…" she started, looking at him, despondent.

"No, remember? You don't need to have your magic leaking everywhere to use it. It just … won't be the strongest," Loki said, shrugging as he began to release her hand before something caught his eye.

She let him bring her palm closer to his face, finding comfort in the overly confident and meticulous way he looked at it. He knew what he was doing, or at least he believed he did.

"Have you ever been bitten by a Mare before?" he asked, distracted.

"No," Dallea said, taking a steadying breath as his eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"I just…" he started, then placed her hand back down on the armrest. "I didn't notice before, but now that the bite mark is almost healed, there looks like there's another mark beside it."

The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she prayed he would assume her sudden disease was because this was brand new information. In reality, she begged Yggdrasil he didn't ask her where it came from. Thankfully, he retreated into his own mind after that, leaving Dallea to get a hold of herself.

"I'll speak to my mother about it," Loki finally murmured, staring at the armrest earnestly. Dallea cleared her throat.

"Could you, maybe," Dallea said, glancing at the forgotten book in his lap, then back at his face. "Are you going to …"

Once again, he understood before she had the chance to fully speak. "Oh, this. Yes."

But instead of handing her the book, he opened it and placed it between them as she had done before. There was a moment of surprise before her curiosity overcame it. She leaned in and began to read, hyper focused on the words so she wouldn't be distracted by the way their arms were touching.

The minutes bled into hours and when they finished that text, they speculated over what they read. The strong Elves were capable of very minimal magic, but the book didn't go into much detail, so they searched for more books, which again, lacked the detail they craved. The cycle continued, and soon a large table nearby was littered with open books of varying topics. Each new discovery brought on new questions, which made them digress more and more from their original concerns.

"But of course," Loki said, frustration making his face contort. They stood side by side, staring down at the table. Every time they calmed down enough to sit they were leaping afoot with another unanswerable question. "Why was the Mare there in the first place."

"And why did it just bite me then run," Dallea said for what felt like the millionth time. His closeness was less daunting than it had been at first. She didn't hesitate before leaning across him and grabbing a book about Muspelheim. "And how did it get there in the first place."

There was a pause. "And," Loki said, inviting Dallea to look away from the pages. "Was the Mare really a Mare, or were you hallucinating and it was really just a hungry Volstagg."

"Stop!" Dallea said, any authority in her voice giving way to laughter. She should have been hesitant, but she was too tired to fight her amusement. She closed the book, resigning she had had enough researching for one day. "Volstagg doesn't have fangs."

"You haven't seen him rip apart a pheasant like I have," Loki said, snickering to himself. "I swear, he _grows_ them."

"You're awful," Dallea said while beaming, following Loki's lead closing various texts and tidying up the best she could.

"I'm just giving you a fair warning," he said, hands raised in surrender. "He'd be the first to become a cannibal when the time comes."

"He wouldn't eat me first," she scoffed. "I haven't got enough meat on me. You're bigger than me, heed your own warning."

"But why would he go after me if I wounded you then ran?" Loki said, a smile ghosting over his face. He had sauntered over to the opposite side of the table and decided having it between them was the best time to say this.

Dallea gaped at him, shocked for a second before she playfully narrowed her eyes. "You think you could wound me?"

He raised his eyebrows for a second. A silent challenge.

"Careful, I can make you eat those words," she said. Her filter seemed to have vanished with her energy. It felt strange, talking to him like she would to Sif or her fellow soldiers in Vanaheim and Alfheim. For a millisecond she thought he would get insulted, despite her light tone. That worry evaporated the second he leaned forward against the table, bracing himself using his arms with, dare she say it, hooded eyes.

"Prove it," he said, savouring each word.

Her heart skipped a beat and her face slackened. Well, this certainly had never happened with Sif. Something in his tone made her hyper aware of every move he made. He tilted his head to the side slightly, no doubt noticing the heaviness weighing down the room. Without thinking, her eyes flit down to look at his mouth. The next breath she took was prolonged and he waited patiently for her to conduct herself.

She parted her lips to speak and from behind her the door creaked open. She whipped around to look at the source of the noise with flushed cheeks. From behind her, Loki let out an annoyed growl, but Dallea must have been hearing things. Footsteps came closer and she waited with baited breath for them to turn a corner and see the two of them together. Please, don't be Hlín, Dallea silently begged.

It was Sigyn. Dallea balked, all of a sudden feeling as if she were trespassing. Sigyn's gaze settled upon her with a mixture of confusion and incredulity. She looked from Dallea to Loki curiously, but based her suspicious tone off of Dallea's guilty expression.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked, looking to Loki. Dallea did the same, with wide eyes.

"No," Loki said, not meeting either of their questioning looks, instead choosing to stack the books into a pile in the center of the table. "Is it dinner already?"

"Yes," Sigyn said, reproach in her eyes when she looked at Dallea.

Heart in mouth, Dallea found it impossible to meet Sigyn's glare for very long. Her heart twisted when Loki looked at her instead of Sigyn.

"Are you done with these?" he asked.

"I … um," Dallea said, wiping her hands off on her dress and withering under the two sets of eyes. "No. I think I'll stay and keep reading, thanks."

He furrowed his brow. "You're not coming to dinner?"

How she wanted for them to just leave her without looking at her so strangely. How she wished she really had retired to her room. How she wished she could chop off her ears that were turning pink the longer Loki looked at her with something along the lines of worry. When Dallea glanced at Sigyn, it was obvious by her wounded expression she had noticed him as well.

"Um, no," she said, clearing her throat while taking a step backward. "I'm not hungry."

"Are you sure?" Sigyn asked. She sounded concerned, despite still struggling to school a rancorous expression. Dallea hesitated, admitting to herself that she was, in fact, hungry, before thinking about the look on Eir's face if she walked in with Sigyn. Sif and the Warriors Three would probably gawk at her as well. Not to mention the thought of suffering under Sigyn's evil eye for more than a few moments made her stomach churn.

"Yes," Dallea said, voice tight and her shoulders raised. "I am."

Loki made his way around the table and toward Sigyn, shooting Dallea one last unconvinced look before allowing Sigyn to nestle into the crook of his arm. In this new position, Sigyn now seemed that same friendly woman Dallea remembered from the market. They exchanged goodbye waves, and when Loki and her disappeared from sight, Dallea stared longingly at the place they disappeared.

Friends don't have such nasty emotions about their friends, Nanny's voice chided. But, Dallea thought, the same could be said to Sigyn.

Still, Dallea collapsed into a chair far away from where her and Loki had been laughing a few minutes prior. She buried her head in her hands, utterly and completely exhausted.

* * *

The Marked Mage, who stood at the doors of the Temple of Awe, looked beyond the clearing that the temples surrounded, and to the sun setting on the treeline. He hadn't heard anything from the people keeping watch in the extensive time it took to find the boxed weapon they were looking for.

But it was quiet. Deathly quiet. The animals were holding their breath.

The Mages behind him hefted the box by two long planks, the end of each plank resting on a shoulder. The box itself was as large as the Marked Mage's broad torso and didn't look very heavy, but looks were deceiving.

"Wait," the Marked Mage said, squinting at the forest. "Tarbol, take five and make a defensive position. I saw something in the treeline."

Instantly the silence became tangibly uneasy. Tarbol and five others exited the temple and the rest waited in the shadows, dreading retreating back into the dark depths of the temple. Yet even that was preferable to whatever made the Marked Mage's hands shake as he held the door open with a white-knuckle grip. The thought of making a stand at the temples was utterly frightening; they were places of magic that the Mares could gather strength from.

Tarbol didn't make it half way to where the Marked Mage indicated before a man's shriek ripped through the dusk. The greenery beside the temple shifted. They were surrounded, and if he was correct, that scream had come from his watchman at the south. The sun disappeared.

The Marked Mage threw the door open and turned to the wide-eyed Mages cowering in the darkness of the temple. "Back to the catacombs! Don't let them touch the box!"

Tarbol stood valiant against the swarm of Mares coming his way, and kept them at bay from that direction long enough for the other Mages to escape the clearing. The Marked Mage covered the other side, shooting hex after hex at small and large Mares alike that shot like arrows from the treeline. Once the majority of the Mages had evacuated, the Marked Mage tried to convince Tarbol to follow, but him and the other five Mages were steadfast, even when the Marked Mage pointed out the omnipotent presence of the Gust, watching the fight from above like a chaotic God.

"Thank you, brothers," the Marked Mage said, making a sign of respect with his hands while backing away. "Valhalla will welcome you."

The Marked Mage sprinted away, looking back to see one of the Mages be overcome. He struggled to breathe as unshed tears welled in his eyes. Still he ran, taking up the rear of the Mages carrying the box.

As fast as they were, they all knew there was no way they could ever be fast enough. One of the Mages made the mistake of turning to look at the shrubbery beside the path they took, and in doing so he made eye contact with a Mare and froze. Some Mages tried to get him to continue running, but there was no use. He fell and was dragged into the forest.

Six more Mages stopped running, then, wielding knives and circling around each other. They nodded at the Marked Mage when he ran past them. Again, he made a symbol of respect with his hands and blessed them before continuing on. These Mages flinched when a tidal wave of Mares surged toward them, but refused to run.

It wasn't much farther now. When a Mage holding the box began to slow, the Marked Mage took up his place and pushed them forward, trying to speak louder than the screams of their brothers behind them. There was only about eight of them running now, weary but desperate.

They turned a corner and the catacombs came into sight, causing a surge of adrenaline to rush through all of them simultaneously. Yet the Marked Mage's spirits fell as quickly as they began to soar. The Mages he had told to stay behind were nowhere in sight.

They raced toward the gaping entrance to the catacombs, that would shield them within the might of the mountain. Yet when the first Mage reached the entrance he slammed into an invisible field and gold flecks exploded from the contact. He fell to the ground, reeling.

The Marked Mage commanded another Mage to hold the box as he went closer to investigate, dread suffocating the air out of his lungs.

"Disengage the security enchantments, it's us," he shouted into the blackness of the opening. Panic gave his voice an extra layer of shrillness. "Hey! Disengage the …"

"Ivar!" one of the Mages screamed. Upon hearing his name, the Marked Mage spun around to see a few stray Mares bounding toward them, teeth gnashing. As his brothers placed the box down to defend themselves, Ivar the Marked stepped back up to the opening, a wild kind of desperation in his eyes.

"Please! If you can hear us, we need you to lower the enchantments!" Ivar said, his voice echoing into the cave. "Please…"

A shadow stirred, and from the darkness out stepped Feigning. Ivar paled, then red rage made the veins in his neck bulge.

"Feigning, disengage…" he ordered.

"You know I can't do that," Feigning said, voice deceptively calm. "There are too valuable relics in here. We can't risk the Mares getting a hold of all of them."

Ivar's anger ebbed away, leaving pure, pleading despair. "Feigning, we are your brothers, you can't just leave us here to die."

Feigning hesitated for a second, considering his words, before catching sight of more Mares creeping out of the trees.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, brother. You should have listened to me."

Ivar slammed his fist against the enchantment and roared Feigning's name, but the Mage turned and retreated into the safety of the catacombs. Ivar's hand slid down the enchantment before he pushed himself upright and took up one of the planks attached to the box. Another Mage nearby nodded at him and grabbed the other end, and together they hoisted it onto their shoulders and retreated into the trees, farthest away from where the Mares were coming from.

* * *

 **School starts tomorrow and I'm excited but also nervous. Here's a super duper long one in case I don't update for a while.**

 **WishUponADragon - Tysm your reviews make me weep. I agree about the Dallea needing more friends. I have to physically stop myself from making everyone her friend just ... because. Some more Loki/Sigyn mess, for you :) And once again, thank you muchly! 3**


	12. Thorn in the Flesh

_Chapter 12_

 _Thorn in the Flesh_

* * *

With a gentle rap on the ornate wood and a glance toward the guard that escorted her, Dallea sat back on her heels. She wondered why she was still so nervous to see the Queen. Or, maybe it was just leftover nerves. Earlier that morning she was walking to breakfast and saw Sigyn and Loki. Needless to say, she didn't have breakfast.

Of course the guard hadn't known why the Queen requested her presence. Naturally, Dallea's mind raced to deduce why she was being lead to an unfamiliar section of the palace. Was it because of Loki? That incident in the library had been replaying in her mind since the second it happened.

That must be it, then. Loki told Frigga of the tension that permeated in the library. From what Eir told her, such a presumption wasn't out of character; he was always spending time with his mother. Dallea shifted her weight and glanced down the hall, wondering if she would be caught if she broke out into a sprint. Was she going to be scolded for stirring up unneeded drama? Was there an executioner on the other side?

"Come in," the Queen called from within the room. Dallea shook her head. Don't be stupid, she thought to herself. Surely the Queen would have a trial before she full on executed her. For some reason that thought and the smile it produced made her feel better.

She pushed the door open and squinted at the brightness of the sun shining directly into her eyes. This room had an unpractical amount of windows and tapestries to catch the light of the afternoon. A few bookshelves stuck out from the eastern wall, creating private cubicles for studying or … something. The room was empty aside from the Queen, but it didn't look as if it was manufactured for one person. Perhaps she just liked the extra space.

Chairs and tables littered the room, all equally lavish. Frigga stood from her seat, the farthest one from the door, and moved to meet Dallea in the center of the room.

Dallea curtseyed and Frigga's welcoming smile encouraged her to relax. "Good morning, Your Majesty."

"To you, also, Dallea. I hope you slept well?" she said.

Dallea nodded and Frigga mirrored the motion before gesturing her to follow her deeper into the room, back toward the chair she had previously been sitting in.

"Now, it's come to my attention." Dallea's heart stopped. "That there are conflicting views about the nature of your magic," Frigga said, her voice taking on a teasing quality as she reclined into her seat. Dallea was puzzled as she sat down on a chair across from Frigga's. Realization hit and she paled. The Queen waved her hand, dismissing any apology that would tumble out of Dallea's mouth. "Of course, it isn't your fault. Hlín and Loki just happened to come to me at the same time about the same issue." Frigga looked beyond Dallea with a grimace. "Unfortunately, they weren't nearly as polite to each other as you'd expect."

Ah. So it had been Dallea's _second_ greatest fear. Now there was no doubt Hlín and Loki knew that she had … relations? With both of them. Dallea cringed at the mere thought of that word. Loki had said Sigyn wasn't interrupting anything, therefore she and him had no relations.

The Queen was looking at her, as if waiting for her to speak. Dallea wanted to say something reassuring, about how she had no doubt they were civil, but she was too busy wilting at the thought of a confrontation between the two of them. Frigga shook her head and turned her mouth upward in a warm smile.

"No matter. I wanted to speak with you directly about the issue," Frigga said. Dallea balked again. The Queen's voice was mercifully soothing. "Not about their childish feud, of course. About your magic.

"Loki mentioned you have another cut on your hand, that also has magical implications," Frigga said. "Or, to put it simply, he believes you _had_ magic outside of your gúl -o hosts, but it was removed."

" _What?!_ " Dallea exclaimed, before covering her mouth with her hand, then allowing it to slide down and squeeze her throat. "I'm sorry! Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to shout, your majesty, it's just … how could I? Have other magic?"

"That's what I'm wondering as well," Frigga said, sitting up in her seat and motioning for Dallea to do the same so they were closer. "But my son is clever, sometimes too clever, and I trust his judgement. I would just like to see for myself."

Dallea immediately extended her hand without Frigga having to say anything. She scanned Dallea's palm and frowned, nodding slowly.

"Do you see it?" Frigga asked, gently pushing her hand back toward her. Dallea hesitated, but glanced down at it. No, she couldn't. Dallea shook her head, and Frigga cupped Dallea's hands in hers. "Try again."

Now with the assistance of, Dallea assumed, Frigga's own magic, the bite marks from the Mare were dozens of holes piercing through her, glowing a faint white. That light was dim enough to be visible, but not to drown out the sight of a tiny blue line, running parallel to the bite mark. Judging by the way the visibility of the blue line waxed and waned in tangent with the bite mark's illumination, Dallea doubted she would notice it if the bite mark didn't exist.

"I see it," Dallea said, voice tight. A blackness crept into her mind, a tangible, swirling dread. When Frigga opened her mouth, she couldn't help but flinch.

"Can you remember any time where," Frigga started, before stopping and smoothing her thumb over Dallea's hand. "Dallea? Are you alright?"

"Yes, sorry," Dallea whispered hoarsely.

Frigga inclined her head forward, scanning Dallea's face over and over. "Dallea, can you remember any time where something inexplicable happened around you? Something that you could have done, before you were bitten?"

"No," Dallea said, shaking her head with more vigour than was necessary. "No, I can't remember anything."

"Are you sure?" Frigga asked, voice soft. "Nothing is going to happen to you, Dallea, you can be honest."

"I can't remember anything," Dallea said, her voice cracking. Frigga wiped a tear away from Dallea's cheek. With shaky fingers, Dallea dabbed her eyes, not realizing she was crying until a sob fought its way past her lips. The Queen left her chair in favour of kneeling beside Dallea's knee, cooing reassuring words over and over as Dallea curled in on herself and cried.

"You're okay," Frigga muttered, running her fingers through Dallea's hair. "Oh, my child. You're completely fine. Nothing is going to hurt you, don't cry."

Eventually, after Dallea managed to grab ahold of her skittering emotions and restrain them, she sat up and leaned into Frigga's hand against her cheek. The Queen, despite her obvious worriment, gave her a smile. Dallea allowed her eyes to flutter closed after seeing it, breathing in the beautiful scent of flowers that seemed to emanate from the woman before her.

"I'm sorry," Dallea croaked. "I-I don't know … I can't remember doing anything magical, I swear…"

"I believe you," Frigga said, coaxing Dallea to open her eyes. Frigga was standing over her, now, extending a hand to help her to her feet. "More than likely, it was a very traumatic moment for you and I would never force you to remember such a thing. I'm sorry for upsetting you, that was never my intention."

Dallea shook her head, feeling ridiculous. She had no idea why she had reacted in such a way. Though, presumably, it was because she hadn't had to think about it for a long time. But to do so in front of the Queen, of all people, who most likely had far more important things to do than watch Dallea shrivel and weep like a pathetic child? "Please, your majesty, don't apologize. I'm sorry I couldn't remember."

Frigga's face fell for a second, the self-deprecation in Dallea's voice bothering her. She took Dallea's hands in her own and opened her mouth. Dallea didn't understand the silent struggle in the Queen's eyes.

"There is a way to remember," Frigga said. "But I would advise against it, judging by your reaction. However, you are a grown woman and if it is something you think you're ready for, I don't see how I have any right to withhold it from you."

A nervous knot formed in Dallea's stomach. "How? I mean, how would such a thing be possible?"

Frigga hesitated. "There is magic that I know of that makes me capable of looking into others' memories. It's a difficult and dangerous spell, but when you are ready, I could try to sift through your trauma and … in a sense, remember with you. However, today is not the day to…"

"Could we try?" Dallea said, her earnesty making Frigga frown deeply. Instantly, she regretted bringing it up at all.

"Dallea, forgive me, but I don't believe you are emotionally sound enough to …"

"I don't think I ever will be," Dallea admitted. The pit in her stomach grew, but the thought of being vulnerable enough to cry at the drop of a hat put a determined glint in her eye. Besides, having someone else understand sounded like bliss. "If you have the time, I'd like to."

Frigga bit her tongue, hard. Alas, she was not her mother, and if Dallea was half as adamant as she looked, there was nothing she could say to dissuade her. So, with a begrudging sigh, she nodded.

"Now?" Dallea said, a nervous smile broaching her features. "If, that is, you aren't busy."

"No, no," Frigga said, waving away Dallea's concern.

Frigga waited a moment, hoping Dallea would change her mind. Nothing. She placed a hand on Dallea's upper back and guided her toward one of the cubicles at the side of the room, closed off by bookshelves. A reclined chair was the only thing that furnished this darker area, and Dallea started to have second thoughts. Frigga searched her face for hesitance, but Dallea squared her shoulders and laid down when she was told.

Frigga stood beside her, ghosting her fingers along Dallea's cheeks before nodding. "I'm going to need you to relax. I want you to clear your mind of everything except what you were thinking about. Try to coax out your memory."

Dallea nodded. Breathed in. Breathed out.

Frigga, noticing Dallea's chest rise and fall at a slow, steady rate, spoke. "Good. You're doing fantastic. Nothing is going to happen to you… you're going to be okay."

 _You're going to be okay_. Dallea felt drowsiness cover her like a thick blanket. Was this the spell at work? She eased into it, closing her eyes and forcing her mind to turn to the swirling black. The longer she focused, the more the abstract shapes in her mind became real memories. She felt herself being nudged toward a memory that was more blurry than the rest. That nudge must have come from Frigga.

But ...no. Not that one, Dallea squirmed.

"Shh, you're okay," Frigga's said, sounding like she was at the end of a long tunnel. Dallea's lower lip was starting to tremble. "That's the one. I see something…"

Dallea physically flinched when Frigga tried to venture closer. All the Queen managed to see was a Mage. From Vanaheim. He had a mark on his face and was extending a hand toward Dallea, but that was too much. Panic flooded Dallea's mind, sending the memory spiralling away. Frigga tried to retreat, but Dallea clung to her for comfort, dragging her to another memory.

This one was golden. At least, Frigga thought it was. Dallea relaxed being near it, but she only drifted close enough to hear laughter and feel the warmth of praise. This was a fond memory.

Frigga looked beyond the immediate happiness and saw that same memory sour to something but more sinister. This one turned blue, then deep crimson, then the darkest black. From within those ominous colours, Frigga saw the briefest glances of what those memories contained:

Blood. Vanaheim. Panic. A Man. A Blade. Magic.

In the physical realm, Frigga's hands were cupping Dallea's face as she stood over her, at the head of the chair. "Your magic … Dallea, may I see this?"

A tear streamed down Dallea's face. The memory flickered before the gold enveloped them before appearing with startling clarity. Suddenly Frigga was an omnipotent spectator, watching a corridor filled with warriors. Frigga recognized the stone bricks as those in the castle of Vanaheim, many many years ago. The memory shimmered, and then began.

 _Dallea shifted, her face partially covered by a cloth. Only her eyes were visible, glancing every so often at the equally nervous man to her right. They both wore a similar blue and white breastplate and sigil on their collar; if their pointed ears didn't heil them from Alfheim, their armour certainly did._

 _Besides them, there were two other elves on one side of the corridor, facing six Vanir warriors wearing colours of purple and green. The Elves studied the floor as the Vanir warriors whispered jeering taunts to one another, pretending their victims couldn't hear._

 _A Vanir soldier spoke to one of the men to the left of Dallea, and he wilted under the pressure. When that same Vanir man directed his gaze toward Dallea, she did the same._

" _And you?" he said, voice level and deceptively friendly. "What happened to your face? Why do you cover it?"_

 _The man to her right spoke before she could. "He's allergic to the moss on the castle walls."_

" _Then why is he here?" another Vanir man scoffed. "You couldn't bring someone who isn't afraid of a little greenery?"_

 _Dallea looked up at the man to her right with appreciative eyes. The man, ignoring the Vanir soldiers and their taunts entirely, gave her a sweet smile. She blushed and averted her eyes._

Zaos. The Elf's name came to Frigga before she could articulate the question. Along with his name came a waterfall of emotions, including affection.

 _The door to their left opened, silencing everyone simultaneously. Out came King Njörd, albeit a much younger version of himself. He seemed panicked, as did Freyr, ruler of Alfheim. Njörd was the first to speak._

" _We are under attack."_

 _The Vanir soldiers looked between themselves incredulously as the Elves across from them exchanged uneasy glances._

" _My liege, we have not received any…" a soldier said, stepping forward. Njörd silenced him with a heated glare._

" _Of course not, we saw them climbing up the wall of the southern tower," Njörd said. "It's Gangnrad. It has to be. It was only luck we managed to see them. You two go and see how they breached our defences, and get reinforcements. Three of you will go to Skandi and_ _Gerðr, and the others shall stay with us, here."_

" _Njörd, that is nonsense," Freyr, a Vanir man, did not fear speaking against Njörd in such an insolent manner, even if simply hearing his tone made the Elves recoil. "Two of my warriors will go with three of yours. They're more than capable of…"_

" _Please, not now," Njörd said, sounding annoyed. Freyr, a few inches taller than Njörd and more physically imposing in every way, squared off against the King as if they were of equal status._

" _I am not leaving the fate of my wife, and yours, in the hands of_ three _warriors," Freyr said firmly, with no room for negotiation. "I trust Zaos and Dallea with my life, and the lives of everyone in this castle. They were brought here to protect me and_ _Gerðr,_ _and they will do just that."_

 _Njörd narrowed his eyes. The Vanir soldiers zeroed in on Dallea, whose eyes were becoming more obviously feminine by the second. Now that Freyr had effectively blown her cover, Dallea didn't see any reason to keep the cloth over her face. She removed it and tried her best to give Freyr a determined nod when he looked over at them._

Good Norns, she was so young, Frigga mused. She was glowing with pride at Freyr's words, spoken in front of those who looked down on her in every sense of the word. Frigga felt Dallea's elation as if it were her own.

 _Njörd, still obviously disgruntled, finally nodded. Before he could change his mind, Dallea and Zaos bowed and took off down the hallway, the Vanir soldiers haggling behind them._

 _Dallea gave Zaos a smile when they were far enough down the hall to be out of sight of the two rulers. Zaos wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed for a second before releasing her, pride oozing out of his expression._

Everything about him was beautiful, and though Frigga didn't doubt his attractiveness, she knew she was seeing him through Dallea's eyes.

" _Did you hear that?" Dallea said breathlessly._

"' _Course," Zaos said. "Even an idiot like me can recognize favouritsm when he sees it."_

" _Sh," Dallea said, elbowing him in the ribs._

" _I heard they enlisted women in the Alfheim army," a Vanir soldier interrupted Zaos' reply, no small amount of contempt in his words. "But, I suppose, if your military is already a laughing stock, why not?"_

 _Dallea's ears turned an unsightly shade of pink and she huffed as they continued down the hall. Now that Njörd was completely out of sight, Zaos had no trouble turning to the Vanir warriors with a sickly smile._

" _Yeah, you're lucky Vanaheim doesn't enlist women or you'd be out of a job," he said, wiggling his eyebrows and walking backward so the Vanir men could see his expression. "I'll bet my sword that even your lout of a mother would have been able to see Gangnarad walk through the front gates."_

" _Shut your mouth, Leaf-Biter," a Vanir soldier snarled, not invested in the conversation before that very moment._

" _Why?" Zaos challenged. "I've met some insecure people in my life, but …"_

 _Dallea tugged on his arm, forcing him to walk normally again. She leaned in so she wouldn't have to raise her voice above a hiss. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"_

" _By who?" Zaos laughed, obviously placing a lot of faith in his intimidating size. "You're the only one that could. Maybe if Njörd had brought forward some actually good warriors instead of fireplace cleaner one, two, and three, then …"_

" _You have a death wish," Dallea muttered, glancing behind them. Zaos scoffed._

" _Relax, would you? You don't need to be everyone's favourite," Zaos said, ducking down to her height as they walked and pinching her cheeks. She swatted his hand away none too lightly. "You've got Freyr wrapped around your finger,_ _Gerðr loves you, do you really need Mr. Insecurity and Sir 'I've Never Touched A Woman'?"_

" _Shh," Dallea giggled, covering her mouth and glancing behind her to ensure the Vanir men couldn't hear what he said. Dallea poked Zaos in the side_ _as they turned a corner._

 _When they did, they found a group of men dressed in black that stopped short upon seeing them. Dallea and Zaos froze for a second before unsheathing their swords. If the hostility in those men's eyes said anything, it was that they definitely weren't friends of the throne. The Vanir soldiers appeared on either side of them, though kept their distance so as not to be associated._

" _Is that what I think it is?" Zaos muttered, eyeing the nearest man's yellow-edged sword._

" _Looks like some denomination of it," Dallea replied. Zaos sighed._

" _Great. I love Gangnrad and his creative pack of bandits," he said, swinging his sword to jumpstart some blood flow. "Getting stabbed isn't enough, oh no, you have to get poisoned too."_

" _Don't get stabbed," Dallea suggested. The last moments spent sizing up each opponent ended with one of the bandits screaming and charging toward them. The Vanir soldiers rushed ahead of the Elves, eagerly meeting the bandits mid-swing._

 _Dallea and Zaos waited a heartbeat before launching into the fight as well. Bandits fought in hoards, and there weren't many of them. They split up, taking each side and forcing the bandits to separate from their tightly knit group._

 _A bandit with two jagged knives noticed Dallea before she had a chance to attack. He jumped forward and slashed at her face. She leaned back to avoid the attack, then while straightening, used her momentum to feign an attack with her sword that he easily intercepted. He grinned, having her sword captured within his_ x _formed knives. She returned the grin, and tilted her sword forward so he unintentionally was bracing her weight. With a huff, she then slid forward, kicking him deftly in the chest and sending him flying into another bandit. With practiced elegance, she regained her footing and twisted her sword in her hands._

 _When another bandit noticed her and began to raise his spear, she punched him hard enough for him to stumble and face the other direction. Her sword sliced the area on his back right beside the spine. Pain made him collapse to the ground._

 _She drew in a breath, then plunged her sword into the back of another bandit, who was in the middle of a fight with a Vanir soldier._

" _Good one," Zaos whistled after finished up his own bandit. Dallea basked in his praise with a one-shoulder shrug._

 _The others gained an advantage over the bandits, with only two of the Vanir being wounded. Luckily the poison was infecting their arms and legs, no where near any vital organ. Unluckily, they were in excruciating pain and could go no further._

" _I …" the remaining Vanir soldier faltered. He looked from his injured friends to the Elves who were standing upright and ready to continue on to the South Tower. Zaos and Dallea exchanged looks._

" _Bring them to the infirmary," Dallea said, her voice gentle but stern. "We can handle it from here."_

" _But …" the man said. He fought a silent battle within his mind, but bowed his head when his friend cried out in pain. "Go, then."_

" _Good luck," Dallea said, then nodded at Zaos and they took off into a light jog in the direction of the South Tower._

 _They ran and ran and only slowed when they realized they didn't know which room held the Queens. Zaos threw himself against the doors, causing the locks that held them to snap under his strength. On the second room they scoured for any sign of_ _Gerðr, Dallea sighed. Zaos turned at the sound, and Dallea shook her head, before hunching over to adjust her scabbard._

 _An arrow whistled through the air, where Dallea's head had been a second earlier. Instead of burying itself in her skull, it found a home in the wall, its yellow-dipped edged making it that much more dangerous._

 _Dallea dropped to the ground immediately, but Zaos took a second to squint out the window, to see that Gangnarad's bandits had also scaled the North Tower, and were perched on it, firing arrows at various windows and soldiers racing across the courtyard._

 _Dallea crawled over to where Zaos stood as an open target and pushed the back of his knees, forcing him to tumble to the ground. He turned to her with a grunt of annoyance._

" _What the…" Dallea started, shaking her head. Zaos' much louder voice cut her off._

" _Would you relax? They weren't firing. I know what I'm doing," he said, but didn't make a move to stand up again. "I was trying to see where they were firing from."_

" _There's probably more of them," Dallea said, annoyed but hurt by his vehemence. "Just because they weren't firing doesn't mean no one was…"_

 _As if to prove her point, another arrow zipped into the room, landing closer to the floor. They were still visible._

" _I have eyes, Dallea," Zaos said, brushing himself off and crawling toward the door. "You aren't in charge yet."_

 _Dallea spent a moment being stricken before shoving her emotions to the side and following him out of the room. Once they closed the door behind them, there was a moment spent realizing they still didn't know which room they were supposed to go to._ _Until, that is, the shriek of Queen Skandi and the shattering of glass reached their ears from behind a door down the hall._

" _After you," Dallea said. Zaos gave her a level glare, then braced himself and kicked open the door, directing all of the eyes in the room to them. The two Elves crowded the doorway, giving the five or so bandits in the room only one exit; out the broken windows from which they came. The bandits sneered at them, and Dallea raised her eyebrows. "Afternoon, gentlemen."_

 _The closest bandit lunged forward, but Dallea slipped a knife out of her sleeve and threw it at his neck before he could get too close. Zaos ran forward, yanking said knife out of the bandit and used it to divert an attack from another. He slashed the bandit's cheek, then elbowed him in the shoulder, forcing him to kneel. From this vantage point, Zaos plunged the knife into the nape of the bandit's neck._

 _Dallea opened her mouth slightly, indignant that he wasn't following their practiced to perfection attack routine. Instead of allowing this to weigh her down, she used it to fuel her attacks. With the strength of anger, she was able to easily knock a sword out of a bandit's grip and kick him to the floor._

 _A bandit took advantage of Zaos' distraction to grapple him to the ground from the right, forcing his face into the marble floor. With a grunt, Zaos found his arms pinned behind his back. His eyes wildly flit around, resting on the sight of the two Queens wrestling against a bandit who was trying to drag them toward the window._

 _The weight on Zaos' back was alleviated as the bandit fell beside him, dead. He rolled over, leaping to his feet and brandishing his sword, sending Dallea sheepish smile as she glared at him._

" _For the thousandth time," she said, pointing her knife at him before plunging it into the shoulder of a nearby bandit. With a deadly uppercut, she sent him sprawling, then turned back toward Zaos. "Watch your right flank."_

" _Yeah, yeah, your majesty," Zaos said flippantly. Dallea bristled._

" _Can you stop?" Dallea said, but received no reply. With a sigh, she turned away to hide her hurt expression. She walked over to the window, knowing Zaos could deal with the last bandit still haggling the Queens. Just outside the shattered glass, seven ropes, like vertical prison bars, hung. Planting one hand against the wall to keep her balance, she leaned out the window to see the grappling hooks fastened to the top of the tower. One of the ropes, swinging in the slight breeze, was easy to cut free once she stretched far enough to reach it. The other ropes that were taut and strained proved to be only slightly less effortless. Unbothered, she ignored the cries of bandits whose ropes were cut in favour of turning to check the well being of Zaos._

 _Queen Skandi and_ _Gerðr looked shaken, but mostly alright. Zaos was holding Gerðr up by her waist, and for a terrifying second Dallea thought the woman came in contact with the venom._

" _I just landed in the broken glass," she said, managing a watery smile before wincing. "Don't worry about me."_

 _Dallea looked unconvinced, but turned to Queen Skandi with a shallow bow. The Queen, in turn, was looking at her with the utmost interest._

" _Your highness," Dallea said, voice even and respectful, but not nervous. "We need to get you out of the castle. Do you know of any safe passages or hidden exits we can take to minimize the risk of running into any hostiles?"_

" _There's one," Skandi said, bobbing her head at Dallea, then to Gerðr. "But it's treacherous, and I don't think Gerðr could make the journey."_

 _Dallea glanced at Gerðr, then to Zaos, who gave her a reassuring grin. She should have scowled, but she smiled back instead; he wanted to drop their argument and she was glad._

 _Before she had to speak, Vanir soldiers poured into the room, weapons raised, then lowered, when they realized the women were safe. Dallea turned to the men, forgetting herself for a moment._

" _She needs a medic," Dallea said, pointing toward Gerðr. "You don't happen to have one among you, do you?"_

 _The Vanir men looked at her blankly, then proceeded to ignore her entirely. Dallea's eyebrows furrowed, confused. She repeated herself, but this time she didn't even receive a look of incredulity._

 _In fact, it wasn't until Queen Skandi stood next to her, with a hand on her shoulder, that the soldiers even looked at her again. "She said, that Gerðr needs a medic. You would do well to listen," Skandi shouted over the bustling of the Vanir soldiers as they all but pushed Zaos away from the other Queen. They instantly stilled, then turned to a man who bowed to Skandi and approached Gerðr, speaking in soothing tones._

" _Thank you," Dallea said, sending Skandi an appreciative look. The Queen replied by squeezing her shoulder._

" _What is your name, child?" Skandi asked, and despite the frazzled state of her hair and clothes, she was as polite and charming and royal as ever. The sheer amount of awe Skandi held in her eyes made Dallea glow._

" _Dallea. Dallea Janiadottir," she answered with a respectful bow of her head. Skandi smiled and released her shoulder. The Vanir soldiers were trying to herd their Queen out the door, but she seemed to have one last thing to say._

" _Dallea Janiadottir, thank you, and your friend, for saving me," she said. "_ _Sjáumst_ _. Until we meet again."_

 _Dallea's smile grew and grew until it was ridiculous and childish, but she couldn't help it. She didn't know that Queen Skandi knew Elvish, and she never could have dreamed that she would hear that farewell outside of Alfheim. Of course, Dallea replied: "_ _Sjáumst. Be safe, your majesty."_

" _I won't let your good work be in vain," the Queen said with a nod._

 _Gerðr was carried out by two soldiers shouting out orders, but Skandi walked out with her back straight and her head held high. Soon the room was empty, save Zaos and Dallea._

 _Zaos elbowed Dallea and wiggled his eyebrows. "Looks like you have another fan."_

" _Shut up," Dallea laughed, elbowing him right back. Yet when she looked at him, there was a fondness that went beyond that of friendship._

" _You've never smiled at me like you smiled at her," Zaos joked, not a single trace of jealousy on his face. "I'm feeling kind of left out."_

" _Good," Dallea said, sticking her tongue out at him then making her way out the door. He matched her stride with a hand dramatically placed over his heart._

" _You wound me, oh fair but treacherous nymph" he said, voice buttery and shrill. He didn't even have to ask where they were going; he knew the only place they could go was back to the war room with Freyr and_ _Njörd. He dropped his hand and ceased his impression. "This is like Lamruil all over again…"_

 _Dallea's laugh was short and loud. "For Yggdrasil's sake, don't be stupid. Besides, you haven't started crying."_

" _Yet," Zaos warned, leaning into Dallea with a teasing smile before she pushed him away by the chest, laughing._

Frigga, up to this point, was ignoring the growing white noise behind the memory. But now, it became almost overwhelming. The static made the memory vibrate, making Frigga unable to see anything. She could feel Dallea's distress wash through her, and just when Frigga was about to escape her mind in order to calm her down, the memory came back into focus. Zaos and Dallea had been ambushed going closer to the war room, and though Dallea's head was bleeding, they seemed mostly unscathed.

 _Dallea ducked to dodge a swipe from a venom-coated blade, then stood to grab the wrist of the bandit who threatened to do it again. Using his height advantage, her attacker stepped into her personal space and tried to overpower her hold on his wrist and plunge the knife into her eye socket. She grunted, but used him pushing against her throw him off balance by stepping to the side. Seconds later she was wrenching the knife from his hand and burying it into his chest._

 _The body fell to the floor and she craned her neck back, closing her eyes for a second to catch her breath. She leaned against the stone corridor for a few moments to ensure she would stay standing. Her scabbard had fallen off of her belt without her constantly adjusting it. Looking to an equally tired-looking Zaos who occupied an open doorway, she took a moment to watch him wipe the blood off of his knife. When he noticed her staring, his expression softened into something sweet enough to make her ill._

 _She smiled brightly at him, and he at her. They had done it again._

" _You okay-?" he asked. From within the room, glass shattered and a whistling sound cut through the otherwise quiet corridor._ Thunk. _His question ended with a sharp gasp._

 _Dallea stood up abruptly, but found her limbs too heavy to move beyond that. Her sword clattered to the ground from loose fingers. Zaos' eyes widened, then drifted to look at the right side of his chest, where half of an arrow protruded. The other half was … it was …_

 _He looked back up and her and gagged._

 _She launched herself toward him, then, and held his head in her hands as he fell to his knees._

" _No," Dallea whispered, her voice almost inaudible. Her hand moved to grip the arrow soldily. She made a move to yank it out of his body, but his hand closed around hers. With wild eyes, she watched as acceptance drowned out his pain._

" _Y-you can't. The poison is already … It's already in…" he said, his words becoming slurred._

" _No, please, no …" Dallea begged, holding his face tightly as his eyes struggled to remain open._

" _Dallea…" Zaos managed to sputter before falling onto his back, leaving her to awkwardly kneel and place his head in her lap. Tears blurred her vision and fell down upon his face._

Grief. It was so intense, Frigga felt herself shed a tear. The memory ached and Frigga heard Dallea start to sob, but she still wouldn't let Frigga leave, and Frigga finally understood why. Words couldn't explain the anguish radiating off of Dallea in this memory. Not enough.

" _Please, don't," Dallea chanted over and over, her voice ragged and pleading. "No..."_

" _I … I love …" Zaos breathed, wincing. His hand tried to reach her face, but he needed her to guide it the rest of the way. "I love…"_

 _His eyes looked at something far away, too far for her ever to follow. She pressed his hand more tightly against her face when it went limp._

The white noise roared in Frigga's ears, but still Dallea's crying in the present and past were audible. In that corridor, Frigga caught glimpses of Dallea howling despair to anyone who would listen, but the memory was so ragged with emotion it faded in and out of clarity. That is, until a bandit rounded the corner and approached her, weapon drawn. The white noise subsided as Dallea in the memory heard him coming closer.

The memory refocused when Dallea looked up from Zaos' broken form. The sheer wrath in her expression was terrifying to witness.

 _Dallea waited for the bandit to come closer. She slowly reached across to grab Zaos' forgotten blade, and used it, when the bandit was sufficiently close enough, to spin and throw it into her attacker's chest._

 _Her hands were shaking when she looked down to study them. They were coated with blood. Zaos' blood..._

 _She stood, then, breathing heavily. She yanked the knife free. In her eyes a deadly fire raged. Though her hands trembled, she still managed to re-fasten her scabbard and sheath her sword. A tear rolled down her cheek but she swiped it away, smearing her face with blood._

 _Her stride started slow, as she made her way to the war room, but it quickly transformed into a sprint. She flew around corners, blinking away tears and killing any bandit she happened across. Her attacks were no long practiced, but violent and effective._

 _She didn't stop - couldn't stop - until she burst through the doors of the war-room. Her chest heaved. Freyr was tied up and being held with a knife to his throat, and beside him Njörd and a few Vanir soldiers were facing the same fate. Only, Njörd was mostly shrouded from view by the hulking figure of Gangnrad._

 _Gangnrad glanced toward the door when Dallea exploded into the room, sizing up the snarl on her face and her predatory stance. The lead bandit let a chuckle pass his lips as he turned to face her fully. He stood a good foot and a half taller than her, and looked pristine and unscathed. Still she pointed the blade in her hands at him and twisted it slightly, as if practicing for when she buried it into his neck._

" _Vanaheim's finest, I take it?" Gangnrad said. A few of his bandits cackled, but she only had eyes for him. Despite him being a great many years older than him, she didn't doubt the power in his stance nor the strength she had been warned about._

 _She wavered. Before any doubt could poison her mind further, she caught sight of the two other Elves lying dead at the feet of a disgusting looking bandit. Their hands were tied. They had been killed after everyone surrendered, for pleasure, Dallea assumed._

 _In that moment, she decided she wasn't going to acknowledge the signs telling her to stop._

" _Why don't you come and find out?" Dallea challenged through grit teeth. With one rough yank, she pulled her sword free, the sound music to her ears. She brandished each of her weapons, twirling them in her hands so he had a good look at how sharp they were before easing back into a fighting position._

" _Dallea, no," Freyr begged, but the knife was pushed farther into his neck, slightly breaking the skin. Dallea stood motionless, waiting for Gangnrad to size her up again. He grunted, more out of amusement than anything else._

" _This won't be but a moment, Njörd," he tossed over his shoulder. He shrugged off his large overcoat, exposing a scythe tinted yellow. He slowly, intimately, pulled it out of his belt and pointed it at Dallea. "I'm not finished with you yet."_

 _There was a moment of calm before, like all of his bandits, Gangnrad roared and charged. Dallea pushed off the ground and ran toward him as well, albeit slower, so she could keep steady on her feet. Before he reached her, he pulled back his scythe, ready to swing it down on her chest…_

 _Instead of, however, stabbing her through the heart, the scythe swiped through thin air and Gangnrad was thrown off balance. Dallea had dropped to the floor and slid underneath his attack, then leapt to her feet and used all of her momentum to charge him and knock him down._

 _An uncomfortable silence filled the room, then, as Dallea advanced on Gangnrad. Freyr took advantage of the bandit lowering the knife out of surprise, and headbutted him away. His outburst was contagious, and soon enough Njörd and the rest of the Vanir soldiers were also valiantly fighting for their freedom._

 _Dallea brought her sword down on Gangnrad, but he blocked the blow with his scythe, and as much as she leaned her weight into her sword's descent, he was too strong. She released him, then, and let him roll onto his back._

 _With a running start, Dallea leapt onto his back and raised her arm, ready to end him right then and there, but he was wriggling too ferociously and she had to stab him randomly. It wasn't that deep of a strike, but it deep enough to steal her knife. She scrambled to her feet and planted a foot on the back of his head, using it to launch herself off of him. She flipped in mid air, then landing in a kneeling position a few feet away. Unfortunately, this left her back turned to Gangnrad._

 _He forced himself to his feet, red tinting the edges of his vision. Dallea spun on her heel and blocked a swipe that would have beheaded her had she been a second too slow. Snorting with effort, he pressed further into her, but she took a few bracing steps backward and stood her ground. If she were standing in any other position he surely would have crushed her, but her weight was balanced enough to distribute his force evenly._

 _However her hands were shaky and slick with sweat and blood. The scythe inched closer to her face and he ducked his head to she could feel his breath on her face. Her breath came rapidly, gaze fixed on the scythe. He was flexing all of his muscles so hard that the knife in his back was squeezed out of his body, and fell to the ground. She shifted and ducked under his arm, abandoning her sword in favour of escape. It clattered to the ground and he crowed in victory._

 _She scooped up the dagger and backed away, twirling the knife in her hands and glancing around at the pandemonium that was the rest of the room. The other warriors and Kings were too busy fending off swarms of bandits, who were ignoring Dallea only on the basis Gangnrad would have their heads if they intervened._

 _Speaking of, he was stalking toward her more leisurely now, swinging his scythe with the easiness of a man who has already won. When he opened himself up to draw his weapon back yet another time, Dallea darted into his personal space and pushed back the arm that was holding it. With the same facility as when she was cutting the ropes, she chopped off his hand._

 _He was screaming in her face, now, and knocked her to the ground with a flailing elbow. She was allowed a few moments to recover from a blow to the back of the head as he gripped his wrist and continued to screech in pain, but the knife skittered out of reach in the meantime._

" _You …" Gangnrad bellowed, reaching down and fisting her hair. Dallea was yanked to her feet and only just avoided being thrown across the room by socking him in the face. He released her, muttering curses, and she stumbled away, feeling dizzy. Blood from his injured arm was spurting everywhere, making the ground around them treacherous. Still Gangnrad charged toward her, and for a brief moment, satisfaction washed through her; he looked almost as furious as she felt._

 _He aimed a punch to centre of her face, but she knocked his fist away and swung one of her own. Unfortunately he moved out of the way and her fist connected with air. With a grunt of frustration, he tried to hack at her with his bleeding arm, but she spun away, causing him to cuss. He tried to knee her stomach but she jumped backward, then hopped right back up to him and struck him in the chest with an open palm. Satisfied with the way he jerked backward, she followed up with a swift kick that should have sent him flying, had he not caught it with his good hand._

 _Without any time to process what was happening, Dallea was thrown to the ground, all of the breath knocked out of her lungs. Gangnrad followed, kneeling beside her and wrapping his hand around her throat. She barely had time to take a shallow breath before he was squeezing the life out of her._

 _She clawed at his hand for a second before realizing it was useless. In a desperate attempt to free herself, she kicked his chest, and his hand lurched away. Coughing, she desperately scanned the area around her for something, anything she could use to defend herself. She zeroed in on the knife and all but flopped toward it, arm extended. But Gangnrad closed his hand around her throat again and ungracefully sat on Dallea's chest so she couldn't move. If only her vision wasn't fading, she would be able to see where the knife was, and maybe even reach it …_

 _So dull and desperate were her senses, that she didn't have time to speculate how the blade suddenly flew into her hand. Only that when she felt her fingers close around the smooth hilt, she randomly slashed it at Gangnrad until it sank into flesh and he went limp above her._

 _Gasping and shaking, Dallea struggled for a few moments to shove Gangnrad's dead form off of her. Once she was free, she sat up and glanced at the corpse only to see the blade lodged deep into the right side of his neck. His eyes were empty._

 _With an agonizing slowness, she pulled the blade free and shifted until she was kneeling. Although she had every intention to rise to her feet, she found herself lost in the red colour decorating the blade of the knife. She heard her name._

 _Freyr was standing a pace away, looking down at her with a concoction of concern and apprehension. The bandits were being tied up. Njörd was looking at Dallea, unblinking. How grotesque she must have looked, there. Zaos' blood was covered in a layer of Grandnrad's. She felt more of it drying on her face._

 _When she looked up at Freyr, his eyes widened. Her face twisted, and she bowed her head, not fighting the sobs that wracked through her body. Freyr's hand landed on her shoulder, comforting in a way Dallea appreciated, but couldn't express._

 _In that moment, the anger leaked out of her body and spilled out onto the floor, joining the puddles of blood. The room echoed with the sounds of her sorrow, and the sound of it was enough for anyone who heard it to shed a tear of their own._

Frigga sucked in a loud breath and careened backward, barely catching herself before she fell. She had been crying and become an absolute wreck, but that was nothing compared to Dallea, who curled in on herself the instant Frigga released her face. That sound of her crying, made Frigga's heart bleed.

She went to Dallea, then, and nudged her so she could sit beside her on the chair. Without asking permission, Frigga wrapped her arms around Dallea and took a steadying breath. The poor girl was still too distraught to speak.

"It's alright," Frigga muttered, tucking Dallea's head beneath her chin so she could hide her from the expression on Frigga's face. Dallea's magic had surfaced under that extreme duress, but where was it now?

Yet Frigga knew that today was not the day to continue asking these kind of questions, as worrying as Njörd's expression had been. So instead she ran her fingers through Dallea's hair and held her until she cried herself to sleep. Still Frigga held her, her own tears landing on Dallea's hair.

* * *

 **NicheNiche- Holy guac, you wrote more than I do, I think! I appreciate it eternally, though. Thank you so much for caring and going so in depth, it's actually baffling that you like it so much. 'That's the Loki I like!" made me laugh out loud. I hope this chapter answers some questions about Dallea!**

 **WishUponADragon - I'd just like to say sorry for this chapter. You got horseback riding last chapter and then... this :( Hearts for days even if I break them all, right? Right?! I hope you liked this one, in any case :***


	13. For Want of a Nail, the Kingdom was Lost

Chapter 13

 _For Want of a Nail, the Kingdom was Lost_

* * *

Tucked away in his study, Odin told the knocking at his door to leave him be. If he had known Frigga was on the other side, he may have schooled his tone and avoided seeing the frown on her face as she pushed into the room anyway.

"Njörd left an hour ago," she said, clasping her hands together and moving to sit beside her slouched over husband. "Why are you still sulking in here?"

"I do not sulk," Odin said indignantly, causing a small smile to tug at Frigga's mouth. "I was thinking."

"Of?" she said, shifting her skirts and leaning forward to take his hand in her own. "He held his chin high leaving this room, you know."

"I bet he did," Odin muttered, squeezing her hand for a second. "He says the Mages have gone silent for a week now and wanted me to send soldiers to investigate."

"Are his feeling unwell?" Frigga asked, earning a small smile from Odin.

"Unwell as in frightened," Odin said. "He was complaining that his soldiers are under enough pressure from the constant Mare attacks, so I said I would send a small fleet, and he argued that regular soldiers wouldn't do. Said that I was leaving Vanaheim in the dust to be eaten by Mares and demanded I send my best warriors."

"And?" Frigga asked.

"I told him I would send Thor and his friends,"Odin said. Frigga's face twisted in displeasure, but she said nothing. "He requested someone else to go with them."

Frigga raised her eyebrows.

"Jania's daughter."

Frigga sat back in her chair slowly, eyebrows raising in disbelief. There was something sardonic in her voice as she said, "Is that so?"

"Indeed, it is," Odin said. "He seemed very earnest to speak with her."

Frigga nodded slowly. "And when are they leaving?"

"Tomorrow, at dawn," Odin said.

"Then I shall be joining them," Frigga said, her tone leaving no room for argument. Odin's brow furrowed regardless.

"What? Why?" he asked, noticing her clenched jaw and steely expression. "Have you spoken with her?"

"More than that," Frigga said. "She let me see a memory of hers. The memory of when she met Njörd and Skandi, and when she used magic for the first time. In front of Njörd."

It was Odin's turn to narrow his eyes. Frigga had long since told him of Dallea's Gúl -o hosts dilemma. "And what does that lead you to believe?"

"That if she had magic going into Vanaheim but had none leaving it, it must still be there," Frigga said. "I want to know why they covered her face, Odin. Why they called her Rekkr and why I saw a Mage within Dallea's blackest memory."

Odin said nothing. His face was blank, now, and his eyes were cast downward. Frigga hesitated before speaking again, her voice soft.

"You were right," she said. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Njörd took credit for killing Gangnrad, but it wasn't Freyr. It was Dallea, Odin. Dallea killed Gangnrad."

When Odin raised his head and met Frigga's gaze, his eyes were glassy. She nodded and lifted the corners of her lips.

Odin's expression melted in stages; first his shoulders slackened. Then his mouth twisted into a bittersweet smile, despite the slight tremble of his lower lip. His eyes filled with grief that ran so deep it made Frigga's chest ache. She laced her fingers with his more firmly, grounding him to reality.

"Good," he whispered, and despite the pain on his face, he sounded relieved. Yggdrasil truly did have a strange sense of humour, and this was no exception. "Good."

Panicked knocking on the door shattered the scene. Odin grunted loudly, turning away to compose himself as Frigga sighed.

"Yes?" she called, looking at Odin to ensure he was ready to be seen. He gave a stiff nod. "Come in."

The guard was wide-eyed and breathless, too frightened to compute the annoyance on the King and Queen's faces. "Your majesties, there was a disturbance in the southwest. We sent a party to investigate and only one returned."

Frigga stood up, alarmed, as Odin picked up his staff from where it had been resting against a nearby bookshelf.

"He says it was Mares, Sire," the warrior said, swallowing thickly before continuing. "A group of Mares."

"How many?" Odin demanded.

"Three or four, it was apparently hard to see," the warrior said. "He seemed paralyzed, Sire. We send him to the Medical Ward so they could help him. He was hysterical, but we managed to understand that much."

Odin glanced at his wife. They exchanged a look before Odin stalked toward the doorway, his voice booming and clear amongst the late afternoon lull of servants in the hallway. They stopped chattering to watch their King stride purposefully toward the War Room, his wife and the guard in tow.

"Find the Warriors Three and send them to me," he said. "And I want you to gather our troops in the ballroom. I will be there in an hour to address them, but in the meantime." He stopped walking, turning to the soldier who stood straight under the King's leery gaze. "Do not panic. Do not ring any alarm bells, and if you can, keep this incident as far away from my sons as you can. We need to keep this incident contained. Do you understand?"

The warrior nodded furiously, then darted off in the direction of the arena, where the Warriors Three spent most of their day. Odin pushed open the door to the War Room and held it open for his wife. The click of the door shutting behind them had an air of finality to it.

* * *

Thor let out a loud growl, swinging Mjolnir to and fro as he made his way to the window in the armoury for the hundredth time. "I'm going to crush all of them one by one, making them…"

"Oh, give it a rest already!" Sif exclaimed, pulling a face from where she was lying down on a nearby bench. "We're all just as annoyed as you are!"

On the contrary, Loki seemed perfectly calm sharpening his dagger. Dallea, sitting on the ground beside Sif so Loki would keep his distance, was re-braiding her hair, her mind a million miles away. Anything to distract her from the anxiety writhing in her stomach. It was dawn and the Warriors Three and their armour were no where to be found. This gave the rest of them no choice but to wait for them to make an appearance.

Thor opened his mouth to hurl profanities, but clamped it shut when the sound of footsteps reached his ears. He stalked toward the doorway where they were coming from, puffing out his chest.

"I'm going to tear you all limb from limb, you bunch of …" Thor's anger gave way to confusion, then embarrassment, as Frigga pushed open the door ad took in the sight of her son advancing on her threateningly. She stopped short, giving him a look so pointed that he took a step back.

After Thor was done mumbling a half-assed apology under his breath, Frigga fully entered the room, with Hlín in tow. Dallea froze, her heart skipping a beat. The room became profoundly small as she glanced from Loki to Hlín, watching them size each other up. Hlín stuck up her nose and Loki sat up straight, sending her a glare so venomous that Dallea shrunk away _for_ her.

"Good morning," Frigga said, ignoring Hlín and Loki's stare down to nod at Sif and Dallea. "Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg are with Odin for the day, unfortunately, so me and Hlín will be going to Vanaheim instead."

"Really?" Thor asked, his tone as level as Dallea had ever heard it. "You're coming with us?"

"Yes," Frigga said, then cocked her head to the side and squinted at the floor. "Well, not necessarily. I will be going to Vanaheim, but I have to speak with Queen Skandi. Hlín will be going with you to see the Mages."

"Norns," Sif muttered, looking at Hlín, then Loki, then finally nudging Dallea. "This is going to be terrible."

Dallea didn't need to be told. The trip from the armoury to the stables was a long one.

Once they were on the horses and Dallea couldn't hide behind Sif, Dallea accidentally stared at Loki for too long and met his eye. He made a move to guide his horse closer to hers, but thankfully, it was at that moment that Frigga dropped back to speak with her.

Dallea was so frazzled, she almost missed the intensity in Frigga's eye . "I don't want you speaking to Njörd or Skandi."

"Wha- Pardon?" Dallea asked. The nervousness in her mind started to dissipate, but only just . "Why?"

Frigga gave her a look, but Dallea still didn't understand. They rode side by side in silence for a few moments before Frigga tried again.

"Because you need to be focused," Frigga lied. "Don't think about Skandi or Njörd. Just lead them to the Mages and if you feel uncomfortable, let Hlín know."

Dallea whipped her head around to look at Frigga so quickly she almost pulled a muscle. "Is that why she's here? To babysit me?"

"It's not babysitting and you know that," Frigga said curtly, tugging at her reins. "I just thought you might appreciate having someone to look out for you."

She didn't go on, but she didn't have to. Dallea knew that Frigga had seen the Marked Mage in her mind that day, and although embarrassed tears pricked at her eyes, deep down she was grateful. The thought of revisiting the Mages weighed heavily on her and under different circumstances, she would have been thanking Frigga a hundred times over for her kindness. But for Yggdrasil's sake, did it have to be Hlín? The one who didn't even seem to want to be around her? The one who no one seemed to like, especially not Loki?

Almost too soon, the Bifrost dropped them off in the courtyard of the castle of Vanaheim.

Dallea was suddenly on high alert. Her ears twitched, tucked into her hair and hopefully out of sight. Her fingertips buzzed as she took a deep breath of the air, drinking in the smell of the forest. She felt as if she was looking at the castle with brand new eyes. So, when her gaze landed on the sight of Njörd and Skandi leisurely approaching her and the group of Asgardians, instead of smiling or feeling at home, she tensed.

Skandi was blatantly staring at her. Dallea's mouth was dry. Her hand found its way to the hilt of her sword. Every step Skandi took to close the distance between them caused Dallea's chest to constrict a fraction more, but she couldn't look away.

She felt trapped. Cornered. Until Frigga stepped in front of her, blocking her from view.

To the others, Frigga was just stepping forward to address the royals. Only Dallea saw and felt Frigga's hand brush against her knuckles. A silent command for Dallea to take a step back, and so she did. Free from Skandi's probing eyes, Dallea took a steadying breath and browsed the courtyard, thankful that there was no one around to recognize her.

Frigga's tone was light and inconspicuous as she greeted the Vanir Royals. Dallea refused to pay attention, so she turned, making sure that no one would creep up behind her, and caught Loki's attention in the process. He looked confused at her intensity.

She offered him a closed lip smile, then nodded, but internally smacked herself upside the head. Was she insane? No one was going to grab her from behind. Thankfully, Frigga stood tall between her and Skandi, so when Dallea faced forward again, she pretended to be calm while cowering.

Njörd, after Frigga explained the reason for her attendance, pointed to two soldiers that were milling around the front gate.

"They have been told to guide your party as far as the North Forest. Beyond there is where the Mages will be, but no one knows exactly where they…"

"I don't think that's necessary, thank you," Frigga said. "My apologies, but I doubt that only two soldiers will provide anything terribly useful if they tag along. Besides, your men need to rest, no?"

"Yes, but, how are your warriors to know where the North Forest is?" Njörd asked, genuinely confused.

"Dallea has been there before, she'll lead the way," Frigga said simply. "That's the plan."

"She… she's going with them?" Skandi asked, shuffling to the side to try and attract Dallea's downward gaze from around Frigga.

"Yes, of course," Frigga said, an almost undetectable amount of coldness in her voice. "When you requested she came, that is the reason why, right? Because she knows the way?"

"Of course," Njörd said. As any good politician would, Njörd swallowed his displeasure in favour of a smile. "And I thank your sons for their bravery in coming here this day and fighting on our behalf. We are eternally grateful."

"It is our duty," Thor said, stepping forward and speaking for the first time. "We will find the Mages and help them in any way we can, you have my word."

"Good Norns," Sif mumbled, shooting Dallea a glance. Feeling slightly hysterical over the whole situation she was in, Dallea couldn't stifle a giggle fast enough. She clamped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Thor turned and sent her a glare that made her want to disappear. To make things worse, Hlín, who had been standing beside Thor, gave her a look akin to that of a scolding mother. Dallea shamefully studied the ground. This was going to be a long day.

Unaware, Frigga stepped away from the group and joined Skandi and Njörd so she could greet the small herd of ladies that had been trailing them. Skandi's women were mainly Vanir, but Frigga was surprised to see a few lady Elves amongst the group as well.

"I don't believe I've met these fine women before," Frigga said with a sweet smile, curtseying to the three Elves that huddled close to one another and trembled when Frigga came too close.

"They're my newest," Skandi said proudly.

"Ah," Frigga said, trying to seem indifferent, but there was something in those Elves' faces that made her stomach twist.

"Shall we?" Njörd said, sweeping his arm toward the castle. Frigga allowed herself to be swallowed by the looming palace, wishing she had brought a few of her own women so she wouldn't have to walk through the threshold alone.

* * *

Thor and Sif apparently never ran out of things to talk about. From behind her, they argued and made up, then discussed things, then argued again. Njörd had given them horses to ride, but Dallea insisted, once they ventured close enough to the North Forest, that the trees were dense enough that they would make better time on foot. For most of the day Dallea rode ahead of the group, the distance between them becoming wider and wider as Sif and Thor stopped occasionally to underline what they were saying.

Loki had ridden beside her for the first part of the day, and thus Hlín stayed close to Thor, far behind them. Dallea wanted nothing more than to talk to him but couldn't find the words. She didn't know whether to be worried or relieved that he seemed too lost in thought to speak to her. Still, it hurt when he decided to walk beside Thor later in the day instead of with her.

Seeing her opportunity or whatever overcame her, Hlín kept Dallea's pace when they entered the North Forest. Surprisingly, she didn't try to scold her or talk to her at all, really. The minutes slipped by, and curiosity overcame Dallea, as it often did.

"Are you from Vanaheim?" she asked. The others were lagging so far behind that Dallea didn't have to worry about them hearing her even as she spoke at a normal volume.

"No," Hlín responded. Dallea didn't know why she was surprised Hlín answered, but she was. "I'm Aesir."

"How long have you worked with Frigga?" Dallea asked, awkwardly shuffling past a gnarled clump of roots in her way. The path was becoming more and more narrow, but they could still walk side by side without much issue. They were getting close.

"Worked?" Hlín echoed, and for a second, a ghost of a smile graced her lips.

"Um, been with?" Dallea corrected.

"A long time," Hlín said. "You were there when Frigga first took me in."

"Really?" Dallea asked, lifting her brows.

"You wouldn't remember me," Hlín said. "My initiation to be one of Frigga's ladies didn't include playing on the sacred apple tree."

Dallea blushed, a bit disgruntled at Hlín's tone, until she looked up at her face. Hlín was smirking ever so slightly. She was just teasing her.

"Oh, I guess so," Dallea muttered, playing with her fingers when she couldn't find the words to say.

"Let me ask you something," Hlín said after a pause. "Why did you go to Loki after I told you that you won't be able to control your magic?"

Dallea supposed that she could have just ignored the question. She didn't agree to answer it, but something in Hlín's tone rubbed her the wrong way. Like _she_ was the only person Dallea could talk to about it.

"I just went to the library and he happened to be there," Dallea said shortly.

"And you told him everything?"

"Yes." Dallea said, looking at Hlín with a slight blush tinting her cheeks. What was she going to do? Get angry? Talk down to her?

Neither. She simply looked at Dallea blankly. "So, what happened?"

"I … huh?" Dallea said, taken aback. Did she really think they...? "Nothing. Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing."

"So why is he skulking around and glaring at you?" Hlín asked. "I know you didn't tell him that I'm looking over you, but I think he would have erupted by now if that was all." Dallea opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Hlín nodded and looked ahead before waiting for her to respond. "Did you walk in on him and Sigyn, then?"

Dallea felt a flicker of anger, but the cold feeling of shock and disappointment snuffed it out instantly. They … were they? She could tell from the look on Sigyn's face that it wasn't out of the question, but he hadn't seemed interested. Or perhaps she wasn't remembering properly…

She raised a hand to her temple, massaging her head. Hlín frowned.

"Sorry," she said. "I know, it gives me headaches too."

"I didn't walk in on them," Dallea said stiffly, glancing behind her, thankful that Loki was hidden behind Thor and Sif. "But I didn't know they were together."

"Oh, they aren't," Hlín said, letting out a humourless laugh at the face Dallea pulled. "That's not what he does. Loki just manipulates the shiniest thing in the room to spend time with him so he doesn't have to suffer in his own presence alone."

Dallea rubbed her forehead. For Yggdrasil's sake, what did he do to Hlín? She spoke of him like his name brought a bad taste to her mouth. Before she could ask, Hlín was talking again.

"Take Sigyn for instance," she said, gesturing at a tree with her hand. Dallea followed the movement even though she knew Sigyn wasn't there. "He tricked her into caring about him even though he never reciprocated the feeling. Now that he found a new shiny object, he doesn't want her anymore. That kills people, Dallea. You aren't the first, and you won't be the last."

Dallea hesitantly looked to Hlín, wondering if her assumption was so far fetched. "Were you … were you an him …?"

Hlín abruptly stopped walking, staring at Dallea so intensely she had to look away. Her eyes flit from tree to tree, anywhere but Hlín's face. She wished she hadn't opened her giant, stupid mouth… wait.

Dallea's tensed shoulders relaxed slightly as she squinted at the nearest tree trunk. There was a swirl carved into the trunk, a landmark from the Mages that she recognized. She spun around, confusion drowning out her roaring anxiety. Peering into the foliage, she saw another swirl. That meant that they were already within the Mages' encampment, in the forested part that they utilized for practicing spells and training.

Hlín's anger faded as Dallea became more and more panicked, spinning around and staring into the forest earnestly. "What it is? What's wrong?"

"We're in the camp," Dallea said, turning around but keeping her attention fixed on the original trunk. "We should have ran into a defense border. There should have been a spell that stopped us from making it this far…"

Hlín pulled out her two daggers, scanning the shadows of the forest the same as Dallea as understanding dawned.

Thor and Sif were closer now, but still far away enough that Dallea had to yell to be heard. "Hey! There's no…"

Before she could finish, a Mare that was bigger than Thor leapt onto the path in between the two groups, snarling and advancing on Dallea and Hlín.

"Don't look in its eyes," Dallea shouted, to not only Hlín, but to Thor, Loki, and Sif on the other side of the creature as well. She unsheathed her sword and stepped in front of Hlín, trying to ignore her fear that made the Mares' mouth water.

"Where is its weak spot?" Hlín asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"Right in the middle of its stomach," Dallea whispered as a reply, focusing on the creature's fangs. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her tongue. The pain grounded her before its aura could make her too dizzy to think straight. Time moved at a sluggish pace. The Mare spat and wheezed and dragged itself closer by its arms. Dallea moved to strike when another Mare tumbled out of the brush, close enough for her to smell its rancid body.

Extending an arm to push Hlín, she sheathed her sword and stumbled back. "We have to run!"

"We can't split up!" Hlín argued, jutting her chin toward Loki and the other two, who were fighting off the now constant stream of Mares erupting from the shadows. She had a point. In the seconds it took for the closest Mare to regain its footing, Dallea craned her neck to see that Sif and Loki were dragging Thor off the path and into the trees.

"We already have," Dallea said, looking to Hlín with wide eyes. She nodded once, and Hlín gave in, spinning on her heel and following Dallea further down the path.

* * *

Of course, Skandi and Njörd acted like they were ecstatic to have Frigga as a guest, and at points they were so convincing she almost believed them. Yet they exchanged glances when she wasn't looking that ground on her nerves. However, she didn't go all the way there to lecture them as she might have liked; she went to Vanaheim for answers, and answers she would receive, even if she had to sit through another one of Njörd's conquering stories for the chance to speak.

In the past she could have tuned them out, but now that she knew for certain that he took the praise for other people's victories, her patience for them was near obsolete.

Skandi sent Frigga a look that should have caused her to smile knowingly. All that she could muster was a weak grimace.

A servant came into the study, interrupting Njörd and saving Frigga. "The hunters have returned, Sire."

"Excellent," Njörd said with a smile, before dismissing the young boy with a wave of his hand. He turned to Frigga, his smile unwavering. "Are you to join us? It will take an awfully long time, so we would understand if you had to leave…"

"I don't think I will be joining you, no," Frigga said and tried not to roll her eyes at the way Njörd visibly relaxed. "But before I leave, I don't believe I ever received an answer to any of the questions I've asked you today."

Skandi looked at Njörd, but he held Frigga's gaze easily. "My apologies, Your Majesty. I meant no disrespect, I just often get sidetracked…"

"Indeed," Frigga said quickly before he could ramble on again. "But I would like them answered, all the same."

"Sounds fair to me," Njörd said with a hearty laugh. Queen Skandi smiled beautifully. Frigga shifted in her seat.

The questions she had asked before were inconspicuous. How long had Dallea been in Vanaheim before she left? Did she hold the rank of Captain or Colonel? But the day was ending, and Frigga didn't want to play their evasion game anymore.

"Why did you ask Dallea to come to Vanaheim?" she asked

Skandi's smile vanished. Njörd's eye twitched, but he was better at concealing his discomfort.

"You must know, she's a formidable warrior. We thought she could do bigger and better things in Vanaheim," Njörd said, turning to his wife with a nod. "Skandi and her instantly got along, so she became her personal guard, and the rest is history."

Frigga openly watched Skandi squirm in her seat. After a few painstaking heartbeats, Skandi settled her nerves and placed a delicate hand on her husband's shoulder, relaxed and content once more.

"I see," Frigga said. "And that is what you offered her? A bigger, better opportunity?"

"Yes," Njörd said firmly. "She received more privileges than she did in Alfheim, and she got to…"

"Then why did you cover her face?" Frigga asked. A tense silence followed her words.

"It's dangerous for women to be in the army," Njörd said, shaking his head and sounding solemn. If Frigga hadn't known better, he would have sounded woeful. "We wanted her to flourish, but no one would listen to a woman…"

"Really?" Frigga said, her voice deceptively light. "One of Asgard's most respected warriors is a woman."

Njörd was quick to respond. "It just isn't the same. You see, she isn't an Elf. Elves have a certain reputation that …

"That you encourage?" Frigga finished, cocking a brow as he sat back in his seat, flustered.

"No, of course not…"

"Did Dallea know that you would cover her face in public when you asked her to come to Vanaheim?" Frigga asked. The silence that followed answered for her, and it also caused a nagging idea at the back of her mind to blossom. "No. That must have been heartbreaking for her. How did you convince her to do it?"

"We told her how she could be in danger," Njörd said. Frigga's shoulders tensed. She thought back to the Dallea in the memory, the one who ripped off her mask the second she could. They were lying. Everything they were saying to her was probably a lie. "She understood and agreed to cover her face."

Frigga nodded slowly. "One more question."

Njörd mirrored the motion, and twirled his wrist, motioning for her to continue.

"What did you do to her magic?"

"I beg your pardon?" Njörd said, covering his shock with a laugh. Skandi shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to be confused. Frigga grit her teeth, and when she spoke again, her voice was loud and commanding.

"I said, what did you do to her magic?"

Njörd's smile faded. He raised his hands, shaking his head so he wouldn't have to look at her, obviously still reeling from her words. "I think you're mistaken, Dallea has never …"

"No, I think _you_ are mistaken," Frigga said, standing from her seat to glower at Njörd and Skandi. "I think that you believe you can lie straight to my face and get away with it."

"Your Majesty, I would never…" Njörd started, rising to his feet as well.

"Enough," Frigga ordered. "I don't want to hear you say another word, do you understand me?"

Njörd nodded and bowed his head, cowed by her rage.

"Good," she said, then turned to Skandi, who was wringing her wrists and looked close to tears. "I want you to bring me something."

* * *

Hlín ran into Dallea when she stopped dead in her tracks, narrowly avoiding being crushed by a charging Mare. Luckily, Hlín regained her balance and snatched Dallea's arm, hauling her upright before she fell. Dallea kicked the mare down and gripped Hlín's arm tightly, so they could scramble past the monster together.

They continued onward, Hlín glancing back to see that this Mare had leapt back into the greenery to join the rest. Their animalistic wheezes and grunts blurred together until all that the two of them were certain of was that most of the Mares were behind them.

"Where are we going?" Hlín shrieked. She hadn't let go of Dallea's arm, but she did when another Mare slipped into the path in front of them and gnashed its fangs. This one wasn't disoriented, it was ready to attack. Dallea turned to snatch a dagger out of Hlín's scabbard.

"May I borrow this?" she said, while already charging the creature. It snorted and coiled its limbs, preparing to launch itself forward. When it did, limbs extending and jaw unhinging to swallow Dallea's head in one bite, Dallea dropped to the ground. She held the dagger above her head, slashing it through the Mares pulsing organs as she slid underneath it. Coming out the other side, Dallea hopped to her feet, panting and dirty, to watch the Mare fall dead at Hlín's feet. "We're going straight. I have an idea."

Hlín nodded, not about to start and argument after what she just witnessed.

* * *

 **Is this an odd place to end a chapter for me? Perhaps it is, but I promise I've been writing lots so the next chapter will be done ...soon, hopefully.**

 **NicheNiche - Awe, I'm sorry I made you cry! RIP Zaos, and as for Dallea and Frigga, I hope that this chapter showed how her motherly instincts are kicking in. That last fight scene was really fun to write, I'm glad you liked it! :)**

 **SenSen-Chan - Oh no! I'm sorry for the tears! One day? Jeez Louise, thank you, thank you! I agree, I hate writing Dallea so weak and shy and I wish that she could be strong and fierce again already. But I'm glad you're looking forward to watching her, and this story, develop!**

 **WishUponADragon - That's it, as Queen of Tearjerkers, I 'm going to make an ocean out of all these tears! Dallea needs a gigantic hug after that one, I totally agree. Thank you muchly, Ragnarok gave me the idea that Frigga can look into minds, after I saw Loki do it to Valkyrie. Like mother, like son. I'd be willing to pay for someone to recreate some of these Dallea fight scenes to, to be very honest. Thank you, thank you!**


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